Thine Own Palace
by Star7
Summary: <html><head></head>Sendoh Akira, transferred to T Block of Fukushima Prison, is sucked into the sordid world of prison gangs and slavery. He understands the laws: fight or fall, but the cruelty he witnesses will force him to question everything he knows - SENRU AU</html>
1. Chapter 1

**This is a story inspired by real life accounts of gang life and sexual violence in prisons. It will include scenes of rape and sexual slavery. It is rated M for good reason. **_**Please consider yourself warned.**_

**Thine Own Palace  
>Chapter One<br>**

The door was drawn closed behind him with the squealing anguish of metal on metal. It was all he could do to stop himself from shivering at the sound. As always it made him want to itch and scratch, but instead he simply clenched his hands by his sides.

"Welcome to T block, enjoy your stay" the prison officer smirked, voice lilting with sarcasm as he locked the door and slammed shut the visitation window, leaving Sendoh entirely closed in.

He looked around him. Bunks, two of them – one above and one below, white concrete walls, no window, one primitive sink (cracked) and one small toilet. He surveyed it all with his jaw set hard.

The room had no natural light, there was only a single low-watt bulb above his head which cast a dull orange glow onto everything. It flickered slightly, making his eyes tired. The walls seemed to stretch too high above him as if he were being swallowed by a cold hard yawn. The claustrophobia set his head spinning. There was barely room for two people to pass each other, and there was no way out. No escape. A tomb. Just concrete unyielding against flesh no matter how much one clawed.

A rustle of blankets made him twitch slightly in nervousness, heart pounding as his eyes snapped immediately to the upper bunk where first a hand and then a pair of feet appeared dangling off the edge. He stared, baited, arms tensed and ready to fight, and saw a grim unfriendly face appear looking down at him.

For all he knew he could be locked in this concrete cage with a snake. A venomous spider. A monster. In and out of cells like these, one came across all manner of creatures. All nature of criminals.

The impression Sendoh had was of confident strength, something not entirely cruel, a show of power which didn't necessarily match with personality. In fact, what Sendoh saw in the man who looked down on him now was someone who reminded him very much of himself. Someone turned hard by necessity.

The brown eyes took in the sight of him suspiciously, weighing him up in terms of size, weight, strength, attitude. Wary of what might happen, and knowing full well that there was nothing except his own fists to protect him if this man decided to take a disliking to him, Sendoh did not drop his guard.

"You got a name?" the man demanded after a moment with a kind of gruff civility.

"Sendoh. You?"

"Hanamichi Sakuragi" the man sniffed and ran the back of his hand under his nose. "Where ya from?"

Ah. The question. Sendoh knew this was the crux, the end all, the foundation of the rest of his time here. Whether he'd live in hell or whether he would live tolerably would all come down to this almost unassuming query. Even if he made all the right moves, it could still go wrong right here.

"Ryonan" he revealed, eyes alert for any kind of reaction in his cell mate's features.

There was a moment of silence, in which the red-headed Sakuragi did not give anything away. Sendoh rolled his tongue in his mouth nervously, feeling suddenly dry, unable to shake the adrenaline fuelled apprehension of wondering if he was about to be prematurely checked.

Finally the red head huffed and shrugged. "Can you fight?"

Sendoh's heart hammered hopefully. First test passed. But there was a long way to go yet.

When Sendoh did not immediately reply, Sakuragi tossed his head and grinned, revealing a telling gap of missing teeth. "Ah well, we'll find out soon enough." He lay back down on his bunk, vanishing from Sendoh's view once again, conversation over.

Sendoh hesitated. He knew he ought to contest Sakuragi's right to the top bunk – but if Sakuragi turned out to have high influence in the gang Sendoh hoped to fall in with it would be stupid to anger him needlessly now.

He stood indecisive for a moment before remembering that indecision was the greatest show of weakness, and then forced himself to sit down on the lower bunk as if he just didn't give a shit.

_Don't over-think it_ he reminded himself for the umpteenth time. _Be strong. Be sure. Don't be stepped on. Be one of them._

The unwritten laws of survival.

They remained silent together as the afternoon passed without event. There was nothing to do. Sendoh heard Sakuragi snoring softly above him as he dozed. Such easy abandon in the presence of a new and unchecked cellmate marked him as either extremely confident or extremely foolish.

Sendoh had no wish to take the chance. Instead he sat in the quiet and the still, just waiting.

And waiting.

Finally there came a hammering on the door and Sakuragi let out a snort as he sat up, roused by the noise.

"Dinner," a voice announced, "Move it." Sendoh's gut tightened in apprehension at what he knew was coming next.

They went, Sendoh following a step behind Sakuragi, not exactly walking together, to the dining hall – if it could be called such a thing. It was an outside area, covered by a concrete roof but open on the sides so that in winter it would be freezing, and in summer baking hot and filled with flies. Four tables stretched across the concrete floor and this… Sendoh knew… this was true gangland.

No guards patrolled here. It was fully under the control of the inmates and their own peculiar sense of justice. This was where you survived or died.

Sendoh's eyes flashed around, noting everything quickly, knowing that the tiniest misstep could be costly. Four tables and five gangs, obvious by their seating. Perhaps seventy or eighty men in total, some large, some small, all with the telling shallow cheeks and black-rimmed eyes of prison life. Many were scarred or wounded, signs of battles old or recent; black eyes, scabs, scars were abundant everywhere Sendoh looked.

And everywhere Sendoh looked, eyes looked back. A hush fell and he knew that the time had come for his baptism; his true test. He forced every inch of calmness he possessed to his aid, trying to squeeze it out through his own pores in an effort to appear what he knew he needed to be. There appeared to be a space around him, a void in which he existed, marking him as an outsider, as someone unprotected. As prey. But he couldn't let it eat at him. He couldn't let the sense of isolation make him feel isolated. He reminded himself: _Be strong. Be sure. Don't be stepped on. Be one of them._

It was a shaven headed slanty-eyed yakuza who challenged him first. Rising from his position at a bench he stepped forwards to meet Sendoh who did not adjust his weight.

"Where ya from, punk?" was the question.

Somewhere behind him, Sakuragi answered on Sendoh's behalf, "Ryonan."

This didn't seem to be an answer that the yakuza approved of, because he cracked his knuckles menacingly. Sendoh weighed him up silently: larger, heavier, stronger, more experienced. Sendoh wouldn't win this fight. Even so, he did not back down. The rules were simple here; you were defeated as soon as you showed you were.

Other members of the man's gang rose and made their way over to support their ally, eyes all around the dining area glued on the coming confrontation curiously. Fights like this happened every day, but never failed to draw interest. The yakuza cracked his knuckles again. "Come on then, Ryonan punk" he goaded, and without warning struck out with his right fist, cracking Sendoh painfully across the jaw.

He staggered with the blow, taking two steps sideways, tasting blood in his mouth. But he didn't fall. He didn't think. He clenched his fist and sprung back at the man, aiming for the nose, feeling his fist connect with a sickening crunch. This time the yakuza fell back, blood streaming, face in obvious agony. But he would not be subdued so readily. He fought to maintain his place in this messed up society just as desperately as Sendoh fought to gain his. Those that triumphed survived. Those that fell fell hard.

They continued to scuffle violently together, cheers and goads going up from those who looked on thirsty for the fight. They kicked up stones and dust and blood as they grunted and gasped and growled, throwing knocks and kicks and punches.

Sendoh was mid swing when a second pair of arms grabbed him from behind, pulling him backwards, holding him in place. He didn't challenge that it wasn't fair, two against one. This was how things were done. This was the world. Instead he narrowed his eyes angrily as the yazuka man approached, fist drawn back. The first blow was to his stomach, the next to his face. The fists felt like hammers. Blood flecked the ground like rain.

Sendoh's spirit flagged slightly beneath the weight of the pain and the violence. Demons told him to drop to the floor and surrender. But he couldn't bear to submit himself to what he knew that would mean. Instead he called on his anger, his rage, pushed himself into losing control, struggling with more ferocity than ever. He somehow twisted enough to loosen the second assailant's grip on his arm, and with a furious jerk managed to bring up his heel to kick him in the groin.

Arms finally free, Sendoh set about getting his revenge, slamming into the large yakuza like a truck, not thinking, not feeling, not aware of his hurt nor the blows he continued to receive. There was no logic in how he fought now. It was all blood and fire.

When a third man joined the fray he barely noticed it. His fists swung right and left with continued ferocity, but he couldn't keep it up forever. When his strength began to flag everything he'd been holding back – his bruises, his agonies, his lost blood – came back upon him with a vengeance. A well placed blow to the head knocked him backwards and finally he fell to the floor, stunned.

This time two men held him down tightly while the original man – now bloody and gasping – drew a shank fashioned from a piece of scrap metal and waved it at Sendoh menacingly.

"You're fucking for it punk" he growled.

Sendoh's eyes blurred but he somehow managed not to look away as the rusty blade approached.

"Enough, Koganei" came an unexpected gruff voice and Sendoh blinked dazedly to see that another man had appeared and grasped the assailing yakuza by the blade hand. "You've checked him. It's done."

The yakuza Koganei struggled out of the other man's grip and spat angrily on the floor. "Akagi" he hissed, glaring up at the other man before spitting again and staggering away, paying no attention to his flooded nose. The hands that held Sendoh down also left and instead it was Sakuragi who pulled him to his feet.

Sendoh swayed slightly as the world tilted around him. He touched an eye tentatively and didn't need a mirror to know it was black as sin.

Still he couldn't help feeling a little relief. He'd proved himself of worth. Test passed.

"What's your name boy?" the giant known as Akagi demanded.

"Sendoh… Akira" he responded woozily.

Akagi looked him up and down, just as Sakuragi had done hours ago, noting his size, strength and fire, summing him up in the only terms that mattered here.

"Well then come on" the man finally growled, turning away and gesturing for Sendoh and Sakuragi to follow him, "you're Kanagawan, then you sit with us."

Sakuragi flashed Sendoh a grin as he helped him over to the bench where the fellow members of the gang awaited curiously.

For now, at least, he was safe.

~tbc

ANs: I recently read a report relating to the issue of prison rape, and am basing this story on information gleaned from it (with some creative adjustment, of course). I do hope to make it as accurate as possible.

Please feel free to look up the report that I'm using as source material for yourselves – "No Escape: Male Rape in US Prisons" commissioned by the Human Rights Watch – it is available free online.


	2. Chapter 2

**Anita88:** Hurt Sendoh? Kekeke, you know there's only one boy I like to tear to pieces and I can assure you that it is _not_ Sendoh you need to be worrying about my dear :P

**Thine Own Palace  
>Chapter Two<strong>

They were a grim-faced and hard bunch of rag-tag criminals from all walks of life, bound together by the simple matters of desperation and geography. The gang was known by the name _Yunta _and they were all inhabitants of the Kanagawa region, the group being about fifteen men strong plus two smaller men who rode with them.

Sendoh gleaned only simple first impressions of most of them over the first two days. His cellmate Sakuragi, for example, he found out was a relatively new transfer to the block and had only been with the group for two months although had already picked up a reputation for fighting prowess. The leader of the bunch was the man Akagi who was beyond a doubt an absolute giant, towering head and shoulders above any other inmate in T Block. He had a no-nonsense attitude to everything, and had been known to react violently to even the slightest suggestion of provocation from rival gangs. A third man Sendoh encountered was called Myagi Ryota and was something of an anomaly in that he was a short guy. It was unusual for smaller inmates to make it into a gang and the scarred vestiges of battle along with several missing teeth demonstrated clearly that this Ryota was constantly being harrowed into checking and rechecking on account of his slighter stature.

Sendoh's introduction to the group was slow because none of them, including Sendoh himself, were particularly talkative or friendly. Conversation was a rare thing at the bench. Whatever personalities they might have had before their convictions had been almost entirely washed out by the breadth of experience they each had during their times inside. Now they all simply lived to survive.

At the far end of the table, separated from the gang members by a considerable difference in appearance and condition, were the two riders. They were both much smaller and slimmer than their gang member counterparts, both with haunted and wretched airs and badly beaten faces, constantly looking around like frightened rabbits which could not make themselves at ease.

Sendoh took care not to look at them, and more care not to sit near them.

The first two days of his new existence passed without much incident, apart from the occasional scuffle for checkings, and the occasional disciplinary smash of a rider. The dynamics of the T Block yard matched exactly the situations that Sendoh had seen in other blocks, other compounds, and being familiar with the laws he knew what was required.

Keep his head down, and maintain his place within the gang. That was all. This motley bunch of men he barely knew were all that stood between him and hell. No one survived on their own, there were no exceptions.

On the third day he was joltingly reminded just what did happen to those who found themselves dangerously on their own.

The a violent turning of a new inmate. He was a haunted-looked kid with dark marks under his eyes and a naturally cowering appearance. Minami was his name. Clearly he was inexperienced with prison life because when faced with the prospect of the yard checking, encircled by an aggressive group, he recoiled placatingly upon seeing he couldn't win the fight. An elementary mistake.

It wasn't cowardice, Sendoh knew, not really. It was only the natural reaction of one unfamiliar with the rules. But there weren't any second chances here. They beat him unconscious anyway. After his initial show of passivity it didn't matter how well he might fight, his hometown gang would not come to his aid. They didn't want him. He was simply left to the mercy of the checking group. He'd failed.

However, the beating was only the start, only the _test_. It wasn't until a little later in the shower room that the unfortunate Minami's turning took place. Sendoh was unlucky enough to witness the start.

Showering by himself in the corner of the room, body already badly beaten, Minami already looked like the victim he was – and looking like a victim, looking weak, was not a wise decision in this place. Soon he was approached by six men. Naked and alone he had no defence. Sendoh winced from where he stood across the room as the gang beat him to the ground again, knocking him into a daze and put a shank to his throat.

"You've got two choices" one of the men hissed. "You let us fuck you, or you die."

Sendoh hastily turned off his shower and rubbed himself down with a towel, keen to leave the room as soon as possible. The few other inmates around him were doing the same.

Shivering with cold and fear Minami lay against the wet, cold tiles, staring up at his attackers with something that resembled disbelief. Hopelessly outnumbered and entirely on his own, it was obvious what would happen. Three men held him firmly down.

Sendoh pulled on his clothes as fast as he could and left the shower room just as the screaming started. He hurried directly back to his cell, ears ringing with the sounds, and tried not to think about what Minami was enduring, and how only a combination of experience and good luck had preserved him from the same fate.

On the way he passed two armed guards patrolling the corridor. The screaming was faintly audible from where they stood but the guards paid no attention to it, nor to Sendoh as he passed. It was clear they had no intention of interfering on Minami's behalf. Perhaps they even benefited from his terrifying initiation. After all it was not unheard of for gangs to rent their riders to guards as bribes.

Perhaps unsurprisingly Minami did not show up at dinnertime. The _Yunta_ gang gathered around their territorial bench and didn't mention it. They all knew what had happened, and didn't need to talk about it. Sendoh took his seat between Sakuragi and Ryota and stared at the wall, mulling over what would become of the kid. There were only two realistic options: either Minami would ride, or he would commit suicide.

Because no one survived on their own. No exceptions.

Sendoh sent a passing glance down the table to the two boys that rode with the gang. They were paler and more nervous than usual. Minami's violent turning had probably reminded them too much of their own. Still, he couldn't afford to pity them unless he was prepared to share their fate so he hardened his gaze and looked away.

It was during that meal that day that Sendoh met for the first time a man who he would come to hate for the rest of his life. He didn't know it at the time, of course, but perhaps already there was something in the air that told him to beware. He certainly gave a shiver as the man walked into the dining hall, boots clicking on the concrete, gun in hand, eyes darting like lizards.

His name was Norio, and he was the overseer of the prison.

Perhaps hatred was the only destiny of overseer and prisoner. Perhaps from the second that man came into his field of vision there was never a way for Sendoh to escape his fate. It's hard to say for sure.

It was rare indeed for an official to enter the gangland of the dining hall but Norio was no common guardsman. He brooked no cheek, no snide heckling or challenge. Of all the dangerous gang leaders in the block, it was instinct that told Sendoh that here was the most dangerous of them all. A man with power and without morals. The entire room fell silent upon his arrival. Every pair of eyes looked down at their plates. Being a natural survivor, Sendoh knew enough to do the same.

His boots echoed as he walked the length of the room and back again, click, click, click. His eyes flashed left and right, taking in the sight of the inmates with a sneer. Sendoh watched him surreptitiously from under his brow, keeping his nose to his plate but his eyes curious. Beside him, Sakuragi had sunk low in his seat, trying his best to make himself as inconspicuous as possible – something a little hard to do with hair as flaming red as his.

Eventually it seemed Norio's curiosity was satisfied because he returned to the doorway and there he stopped and nodded to an accompanying guard who disappeared momentarily into the corridor as if to fetch something. Everyone in the room watched his every move while simultaneously trying to appear not to.

There came a loud bang and a shout from within the building, a noise at which every inmate twitched or finally lifted their heads towards the entrance, no longer able to resist the pull of curiosity. Further noises sounded, echoing down the corridor like scuffling, struggling, yelling. Sendoh felt apprehensive, as if a tornado were heading in their direction. Everyone waited with baited breath, eyes trained on the door beside which Norio still stood dangerously.

Finally three struggling guards appeared and managed to throw a fourth man – a prisoner still in handcuffs – into the dining area so violently that he fell to the floor with a grunt, skidding to a stop, the concrete scouring the side of his face like a grater. They didn't remove his handcuffs. Norio gave the man a vicious kick in the gut before he and the rest of the guards turned and left, clanging the door shut and leaving the new arrival where they'd thrown him. Everyone in the room stared at the collapsed figure silently. No one went forward to either help him or to mock him. In fact no one moved. Eighty men, some of the hardest criminals in the country, gang leaders and vicious yakuza members all rendered dumb in the face of this one seemingly defenceless man. Sendoh had never seen anything like it before.

For a long time the man did not move, laying face down on the floor, simply exhausted from whatever struggles he had endured. However, after a few minutes the newcomer twitched and rocked and, with a grunt and a gasp effort struggled to his knees. It was obvious that he'd been beaten to within an inch of his life. Blood streamed down his bruised and grazed face unchecked. Tired and hurt, bloody and dirty, apparently completely unaware of the others around him he moved with jerky, twitching movements, his cuffed hands doing nothing to help his struggles. Something about him reminded Sendoh of an animal – his gaze was wild, without reason, without intelligence – struggling only to move, not seeming to understand even that anyone else was there. He looked at no one, not one of the eighty men present commanded even a snippet of his attention. It was as if he couldn't even see them.

Like an animal he grunted and winced as his pained body moved slowly, lurching, dragging his broken self across the floor in the most pitiful state until he reached the wall and collapsed against it as if it were a bed, resting his head against the cold vertical concrete and closing his eyes with a sigh.

One by one the inmates returned to their food, paying no more attention to the newcomer than he was playing to them.

Utterly bemused, Sendoh had no idea what to make of this.

"Hey" he whispered to Sakuragi next to him, "who's that?"

"Trouble" Sakuragi replied, taking a mouthful of potato. "Stay away from him."

Sendoh blinked and Sakuragi, seeing his continued curiosity, put down his fork with a sigh. "You know the rule" he said, staring Sendoh in the eye coolly, "no one survives on their own, no exceptions."

Sendoh nodded mutely and Sakuragi tossed his head in the direction of the boy who still rested bloody and beaten against the wall. "Well, he's the exception."

Sendoh stared. _The exception._

"What's his name?" he asked.

"Kaede Rukawa" was the reply.

~tbc

ANs: Tough love.


	3. Chapter 3

**Anita88: **Isn't it ironic that we think of Rukawa as being stronger than Sendoh, even though we put Sendoh as "seme". I find it amusing ^.^ Still, I like to write a slightly tougher Sendoh here – makes a nice change lol.

**Addicted to SD: **Hi, thanks for stopping by ^.^ I guess this fic is an acquired taste! I'm trying yet another different style lol. Yeah Sendoh's character is a little different from normal but I think it's justifiable. At least… I hope it is… lol /sweatpour.

**Thine Own Palace  
>Chapter 3<strong>

Days passed into days, as they always did. The ever stretching black hole of time which marked a prisoner's existence. Days peppered with hot or cold, discomfort, fear. Sometimes less. Sometimes more. But always, always, the days ticking, dripping or crawling by.

Sendoh caught sight of the man Norio twice more as he performed his routine rounds. Every time he couldn't shake the sense of being examined, like an animal, like a piece of meat. Norio's eyes were dark and calculating and cruel. They lingered on everyone as if looking deep into their psyche, puzzling them out each and every one of them. As if in some way he owned them, with a power absolute. Whenever he arrived, the natural balance of prison gang life was upset. Whenever he left it was common for violence to escalate briefly as statuses were ferociously reaffirmed.

As for the odd boy Rukawa Kaede, the one who had been so viciously beaten by the same man Norio, Sendoh did not see him again. Although naturally curious, unable to conceive of how anyone could possibly break free of the warped prison social system, Sendoh could not find out anything more. Faced with such a road block on information he let the matter slip to the back of his mind.

Then, a week after his initiation, Sendoh's membership of the Yunta gang demanded its first toll from him. It happened in the showers, as so many of these things did, where men were at their most vulnerable, where guards didn't look even if they didn't care.

It started when Sendoh came into the stalls only to see three men forcing themselves on a fourth. Forced down to his knees on the hard tiles, one man's hand clenched fiercely in his still-damp hair, the boy's head was being jerked to and forth viciously like a rag doll, the side of his head slamming against the wall every so often. Two of the men looked on serious and menacing while the last thrust his way into the boy's mouth violently, choking him.

It wouldn't ordinarily have been any of Sendoh's business except that he recognised the boy who was being so inelegantly violated.

He pondered the possibility of backing out of the room and pretending he hadn't noticed this transgression, the scene of oral rape, however the chance of someone noticing his moment of reluctance would almost certainly result in a rather nasty situation for him. As a member of the gang it was of course his duty to protect that which belonged to the gang. Failing that duty would be to forfeit the protection the gang granted him.

Knowing that once again he was trapped by circumstances that left him no choice except a nasty one he forced himself to speak up.

"I don't think that belongs to you" he announced coldly, eyes narrow as the three men looked towards him. It was only a show of confidence. Inside his guts churned.

The boy was abandoned where he slumped against the wall as the first man pulled closed his fly and glowered, "What you gonna do about it, Yunta punk?"

Sendoh clenched his fists.

Of course it all went as one would expect. The fight escalated with astonishing rapidity. Truthfully it was a lose-lose situation for Sendoh. Three on one were not odds he would have taken if there'd been any other reasonable choice. All he could hope for was to survive, to avoid being forced into submission himself, and that another member of the gang may come to his aid before he was forced to succumb.

It fact it would have gone badly for him if it wasn't for help from an unexpected source. The boy who had been being used so viciously, after a moment of daze, managed to struggle to his feet and aid Sendoh in his efforts to fend off the rival gang. The boy, despite a small stature and lowly position among the prison populace was full of his own offended fire. He was testament to the fact that although many gang members got to thinking of riders as weak-willed women, the fact remained that they could be quite the contrary. It was not only physical weakness that threw a rider into a position of servitude, but more often than not a completely unreasonable twist of fates. Anyone could fall.

So it was that, upon seeing the fight was more troublesome than worthwhile, the three other men hissed their parting insults, nursing their bruises, promises of swift and vicious retribution, and left the two Yunta men alone.

They stared at one another, both panting, both bleeding. Sendoh's eyes were curious, but the other's held disdain.

"Got a name, punk?" Sendoh demanded after a moment.

"Fujima Kenji" was the hissed reply, along with narrowed eyes and a low growl. Clearly this Fujima was expecting Sendoh to do something. Something, Sendoh knew, that mirrored almost precisely what the other three men had already done. Because Sendoh had a right to him. Because Sendoh was a gang member but Fujima was just a rider, and in turn for the gang's protection, Fujima offered the gang his body. That was how the system worked.

Never mind the fact that Fujima had fought too. That if it hadn't been for Fujima's help, Sendoh himself would be in a very bad position right now. Truly, Sendoh realised, looking at this angry and bitter boy before him, absolutely nothing separated them and their fates except blind luck. How easily their positions could have been reversed. It nearly caused Sendoh to sigh.

They were allies in that they sought protection from the same gang. But they were enemies in that one was a master and the other a slave.

And Sendoh knew that unless he wanted to sink, he had to ensure that the status differences were upheld. He couldn't acknowledge this Fujima as an equal. He had to trample on him, use him, abuse him, remind him that he was just a rider, a whore, and that Sendoh owned him. He knew he ought to move closer, beat him or rape him, take his share of the pay due for the protection he offered.

And yet somehow he couldn't do it. He just stood and stared, knowing that every second he was weaker and weaker. And though it caused him to panic, he still did nothing. There were boundaries to his personality that even years spent inside had still not allowed him to hammer out fully.

He was not cruel and not violent no matter how much his situation forced him to pretend to be.

"You make me sick" Fujima suddenly spat, and Sendoh blinked. It was dangerous. It was very dangerous. He knew he needed to do something to reassert his control, but still couldn't bear what that involved.

"Making out like I'm some _bitch_." Fujima scowled bitterly, probably knowing he'd he punished for cheeking a gang member but in the haze of his affronted anger chancing it nonetheless. "_No one_ comes to prison knowing the rules. _Everyone _starts out riding, and then you just fucking lie about it. It's sick. You've sucked as much dick as I have. You deserve this just as much as I do. Then why do I have to ride while you arseholes force whatever you want from me? _Why?_"

Sendoh clenched his fists. He took three steps forward and, with a swing of his arm, knocked Fujima back into the wall violently. His skull cracked nastily against the tiles.

"Shut up, bitch" Sendoh managed to say in a voice that sounded utterly unlike his own, his skin crawling with every word. He wanted to get out of there. He needed to get out desperately. He was playing a façade and it was slipping quickly.

The despair. The hopelessness. The complete and utter madness of a system which ground them all down into the dirt. Those that rose. Those that fell. It made no sense. It was all simply sickening.

But he had to survive.

He had to. Even if it meant trampling on others – what other choice did he have?

He turned on his heel and left Fujima crying and bleeding on the floor. He stalked back to his cell, aching with his own anguish. There was no escape. There was no choice. There was only being one of them, or being crushed by them.

He sat on his bed. Sakuragi was not yet back, and lockdown was not due for another thirty minutes or so. He stared at the wall hopelessly.

He didn't want to be this person. He _wasn't_ this person. But he wouldn't ride. He could never allow himself to sink to that. To be a whore? Just the thought made him choke on his own bile.

He rubbed his hands over his face. He didn't want to fight. He didn't want to ride. But there were only three choices in this hell hole. Fight, ride, suicide. No exceptions….

_Exceptions_.

…_exceptions._

Trying to reign in his thoughts he waited the arbitrary thirty minutes until Sakuragi returned.

"Hey Sakuragi" he began, keeping his voice as casual and surly as possible while the red head climbed his way into the top bunk. There was no reply so Sendoh continued. "That boy… that Rukawa guy. What… what did you mean?"

"Forget about it" Sakuragi's disembodied voice replied gruffly.

But he couldn't forget about it. If there was another way, if there was _any other way_ he wanted to know it. Even if it meant getting beaten beyond recognition, he was willing to try it. The feel of Fujima's jaw shifting under the blow of his arm haunted him even now.

"Why haven't I seen him around?" Sendoh persisted curiously.

Sakuragi rolled over onto his side somewhere above Sendoh's head in a creak of springs and rustle of thin blankets. "He's Norio's favourite plaything." Sakuragi sniffed in a masculine gurgle of mucus as if just the name tasted foul to him. "That sadistic bastard."

The image of the prison overseer came immediately to Sendoh's mind. The cruel eyes, the absolute power, the brutal click of his heels. Moreover the ability to bring the entire dining hall to silence, the hardest and most dangerous criminals falling into the role of children before a headmaster under his silent stare.

"Don't get involved" Sakuragi advised. "The last think you want is for Norio to notice you. You should have seen the state of his previous toy. Makes me feel sick just thinking about it."

Sendoh did not want to ask. His imagination did the work for him.

"Stay away" Sakuragi repeated his warning, rolling over once again, signalling the end of the conversation.

Sendoh stared up at the underside of Sakuragi's bunk and didn't sleep at all that night.

* * *

><p>It's hard to say whether it was chance or fate. Freud would probably have put it down to Sendoh's own conflicted heart. Perhaps he did subconsciously bring it down upon himself, or perhaps he didn't. For whatever reason, it happened anyway.<p>

The fight was not unexpected. Transgressions had been made, and the Yunta gang needed to protect themselves. It wasn't possible to let the culprits go unpunished, and from Sendoh and Fujima's accounts the perpetrators were easy to identify.

It was Akagi that approached the rival bench, flanked by six of the best fighters from the group, Sendoh and Sakuragi included. The Osaka-based group rose from their chairs at the challenge. Neither side could afford to lose face and back down, so the situation escalated into an all-out brawl.

Sendoh didn't know who threw him, a vicious two-handed heave, large fists clenched in the front of his shirt and the next moment he was propelled with some force across the table, crashing to the ground on the other side, losing his orientation. He was kicked and trampled upon as he struggled to get back up. Everywhere around him was a whirl of fists and grabbing and grunting. It was almost impossible to tell friend from foe. Before he could distinguish what was happening around him, a second pair of fists had hauled him to his feet, throwing him again so that he stumbled across the floor and fell finally dazed to the concrete. He shook his head in an effort to clear it and made to stand up when a loud noise above his head made him nearly leap out of his skin in alarm.

A gunshot. The bullet lodged itself into the concrete canopy and sent a trickle of pulverised dust down onto Sendoh's head. Everyone immediately froze and looked in Sendoh's direction.

Sendoh came to realise that he had fallen at the feet of someone, and he didn't need to look up to know who it was.

Fate, or chance, perhaps it didn't even matter.

A hand fisted in his hair, pulling painfully by the roots. He felt like a heavily-weighted puppet. Everyone watched in trepidation.

Sendoh's eyes flickered over the faces of his fellow gang members, those who were bound to protect him, saw them make no move and realised that he was that which he most feared to be. _Alone_.

"It seems you will all be observing a forty-eight hour lockdown." Norio explained in a silky voice, eyes roaming over the gathered inmates, brawlers and onlookers alike. He shook Sendoh's head back and forth as if he were a dog caught by the scruff. "You will now be escorted back to your cells."

There was a sound of cocking weapons and Sendoh knew that behind him, behind Norio, must be a line of armed guards. Norio turned crisply on his heel and headed for the exit, not releasing his cruel grip on Sendoh's hair so that Sendoh was forced into a kind of half-drag and half-crawl to follow him.

Norio had not explained his intentions, but everyone who watched Sendoh dragged away like a dog didn't need it explained. One man broken to serve as an example to the rest.

Fate, or chance, didn't seem worth worrying about anymore.

~tbc

ANs: _Sorry I've been a little busy last few days. I am still working on this. I think I will keep it comparatively short (I'd guess only about 6 chapters long? Maybe?)_

_At least we shall have some Rukawa+Sendoh interaction next chapter (yes, please!) _

_Trying to keep the writing quite "distanced" – kind of like Sendoh is "numb" to what's going on. He might warm up a bit later on – kekekeke. _

_I ought to mention that elements of this fic have been inspired by Celia's long ago written ruhana _Sticky Boy_. If anyone has a copy of this please please PLEASE let me know. It's been 10 years since I read it D: I want it so badly!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Anita:**Thanks again for another review! You are always so encouraging, I really appreciate it! :D As for School Days – yes actually I did write a third chapter to the series but never quite finished it. I may get around to posting it someday ~ glad you enjoyed them!

**Crumbs:**Hi, thanks for taking the time to review! Glad to hear that you are reading along and are enjoying it so far. I hope I can meet your expectations /meekface

**Hoho:**Ah I'm pleased you checked out the report. Gosh – isn't it shocking stuff? I think if you wrote it as fiction no one would ever believe it was possible. It's hard to believe it's real!

**Thine Own Palace**

**Chapter 4**

It was a bare cell; small, hard and cold. Presumably kept precisely for this purpose. He was thrown against the wall and left a trail of blood on the concrete as he was beaten into the floor. It was almost industrial. Purposeful and serious. No passion, no rage or desperation like normal fights. The blows he received were weighted and accurate, designed not to _win_ the non-existent round, but rather to inflict visible damage. He was being made an example of, after all. Thus they concentrated their violence where it would be most notable – his face – and not necessarily where it would be most painful or debilitating.

Not to say that it wasn't bad or it didn't hurt.

For sure, it was bad. And it hurt like hell.

It was just the case that it hurt in such a way as to not actually prevent him from walking once they were done making a bloody slaughter out of the rest of him.

In fact it was that calculated economy which made it all the more sickening.

Once Norio deemed him suitably wrecked, drenched as he was in his own blood and saliva and snot, a halt was called to the example-making and Sendoh was pulled to his feet and dragged back out into the corridor. He staggered, faint, head spinning, barely able to see with his swollen eyes but they marched him onwards without compromise.

He was made to follow Norio, the two other guards following along behind, clouting him painfully over the head with the butt of a gun whenever he slowed his painful wincing pace.

Despite his head humming and woozy, Sendoh had enough presence of mind to realise that he was not being returned to the cell he shared with Sakuragi. This made sense. After all, the whole section was under Norio's forty-eight hour lockdown. No one would be permitted to leave their cells for the duration. They could hardly show off their handiwork to good effect in such a scenario. No. It seemed Norio would be keeping Sendoh for forty-eight hours longer – keeping him aside to simmer carefully, perhaps adding salt where necessary to ensure he had the perfect serving to spill across the floor and under all eyes of the dining area in two days time.

He hated to admit weakness, even to himself, but his head rang painfully as if in dire warning. He felt nervous. He left like he was at a limit. He genuinely didn't know if he would survive another beating like that one.

Still they forced him onwards, staggering out of the building and under the sky, through the grounds and all the way over to an out-building Sendoh had never seen before. Even from the outside he could tell it was deserted. Some windows were smashed, the door was rusted. Apprehension gnawed at him more fiercely than before. It hardly looked like the place where goings-on were officially documented.

Inside the building was large and dark and dirty. There was one central passageway lined on both sides with open-barred cells. Completely unlike the isolated concrete rooms that the inmates inhabited, these were more like holding cells, only the back wall being solid, the front and sides formed of bars through which one could look the entire length of the building, wide enough to even reach an arm through. Certainly this was an outdated and insecure style of prison housing and the reason, Sendoh assumed, that this block had been abandoned to the ravages of time.

They walked down the central passage in silence, only the tramp of their feet echoing in this cold, forgotten place. It was dark inside; none of the lights had been switched on. Sendoh doubted they even worked. Somehow it didn't seem like the kind of place with electricity. He shivered. The thought of being left here alone was increasingly frightening.

However, despite his mounting fears, Sendoh tried to keep his eyes and face (what was still functioning of it) neutral. He didn't intend to cause Norio any satisfaction.

"This" Norio suddenly announced, almost startling Sendoh at the sudden breaking of his silence which had been absolute since pulling Sendoh out of the dining hall, "this is where we kept the leaders of the _numbers_."

He spoke as if giving a history lesson, as if his words held great meaning, as if Sendoh ought to be interested or impressed, even though Sendoh didn't know who or what the _numbers_ were, or why it should matter to him.

"But of course, they're all dead now" Norio concluded his remark with a touch of smugness. Sendoh wondered if it was an attempt to frighten him. To haunt him. To speak of ghosts in this sad and empty place, and the now barren cells that had once been filled with their lives.

They paced onwards until Norio stopped beside an open cell door. Sendoh had no chance to prepare himself before one of the guards behind him shoved him brutally inside so that he stumbled and hit the floor. It was a confirmation of his fears. He was going to be left here. Caged in with the rats and the beetles and the damp. In a place like this – not simply _alone_, but actually… forgotten. Ceasing, perhaps, to even exist. No one would come by this place. No one.

He rallied his wits, hoping to burst towards the gate before it clanged shut, perhaps darting out through the closing gap in some madcap bid for freedom.

Too slow his hands only thudded into the bars as the latch clicked shut. And he was trapped in like some animal.

Norio smiled at him between the bars his new prison. "Well, mostly dead."

Sendoh stared at him in unhappy disbelief, not comprehending. Norio only turned away, guards falling in right behind him, moving to walk back the way they'd come.

"W-wait…" Sendoh's voice was dry and nervous. They couldn't leave him here, in this empty aching place. Couldn't.

"Don't expect any heartfelt conversations" Norio called back over his shoulder with a cold smile that Sendoh didn't see, "he doesn't talk much."

In confusion Sendoh watched them leave, their shadows walking out into the sunshine and slamming the rusted door closed behind them with a boom. Feeling sick to his stomach he swallowed and turned his head to the side.

He nearly leapt out of his skin in shock seeing a body in the adjoining cell. He moved away in horror, convinced that it was corpse. A boy. A familiar boy. Almost so much a part of the cell that it was hard to even notice him there.

He neither moved nor spoke. Without any lights on it was difficult to make him out clearly. There was a post in the centre of his cell, although there wasn't one in Sendoh's. A wooden thing that extended fully from ceiling to floor and to which the boy had been handcuffed. He sat leaning back against it now. He was utterly quiet, so thin and so pale that it would be easy to believe him dead if not for the faint rise and fall of his chest.

He didn't acknowledge Sendoh's arrival. He didn't seem aware of it at all. Though it wasn't as if the lack of light made a difference to him because, and Sendoh stared in horror, the boy was blindfolded.

The silence of their shared nightmare stretched out around them like a huge empty cavity filled with nothing but their swallow breath and weak heartbeats.

Hesitantly, fearfully, Sendoh crept over to the bars that separated his cell from the other. He dropped to his knees to bring himself down to the same level as the other boy, his only companion in this place. Even if he reached through the bars, the boy was still a good six feet away. It seemed he would be able to sit or stand but not lie down or move away from the post.

With his voice trembling, Sendoh spoke up.

"Kaede Rukawa?"

His voice echoed eerily in this silent building.

There was no response. Not a flicker of a reaction. Not a shift or a twitch or a tilt of his head to indicate that he had even heard.

Sendoh wondered if he were sleeping. He spoke a little louder.

"Hey."

Again, nothing.

It was creepy. Unable to see his eyes it was difficult to even think of him as a living person. He was more like a shell. Like the frail discarded skin of a snake that had long slithered off elsewhere.

_How __long __has __he __been __here?_ Sendoh found himself wondering. _Has __this __place __driven __him __mad?_

Deprived of sound, of company, of the ability to communicate, to move, even of sight. Surely it would drive anyone mad. It was… horrifying.

His eyes slowly adjusting to the lack of light, Sendoh stared harder. He saw scars and marks on his neck and bare arms. Not the randomised injuries of skirmishes but the meticulous patterning of careful torture. He felt sick.

He called his name one more time, to an equal lack of effect.

Discouraged, he reluctantly drew back from the bars and turned his attention back to his own cell. It was empty. Genuinely empty. No bed. Not even a toilet or sink. A barren concrete square. He sighed and sat himself down again the back wall in an effort to make himself comfortable. It was impossible.

_Forty-eight __hours_, he reasoned with himself. He could survive this. He gently touched his wounded face, anticipating a long and silent two days.

* * *

><p>It wasn't until evening that anyone returned. In fact Sendoh was a little surprised that someone bothered to return at all. He'd half been expecting to be left utterly alone for the entire duration. He wondered if they would bring food for him.<p>

Turned out, though, they weren't there for him at all.

The single visitor carried a flashlight which swung across the floor as he walked down towards the only two occupied cells, whistling grimly in the darkness. Sendoh's heart hammered with unexplainable nervousness. He roused himself from where he lay against the hard floor and walked over to the cell door to look out. As the man approached, Sendoh could make out the faint red glow of a lit cigarette in his mouth. It wasn't until he drew almost level with the cell door that Sendoh recognised that it was Norio himself. He expected to be addressed, but Norio continued past, ignoring him entirely, and with a jangle of keys instead let himself into the cell next door.

Curious, Sendoh walked around the perimeter of his cell, moving hand over hand along the bars, feeling the flaking paint and rusty rough under his palms.

Norio set the flashlight down on the floor so that it shone over the helpless form of the silent Kaede. He hadn't moved at all from where he leant against his post. Sendoh hadn't even seen him so much as shift his weight all day. The glow of the flashlight made him look almost grotesque, like an inanimate corpse aglow in the darkness. Like a horror story told around a campfire.

Silently Sendoh crouched down and looked on.

"Now" Norio began in a soft voice, reaching out and taking one of the boy's slim ankles in hand delicately, like a doctor beginning an inspection. There was no reaction and no resistance, although Sendoh hardly expected otherwise. "You know what I want, Kaede."

There was no movement and no reply. Sendoh raised a sceptical eyebrow. It seemed pretty obvious to him that Norio was wasting his time. After all, hadn't he already mentioned that the boy didn't speak? What was he expecting exactly?

Norio let out a sigh as if, like Sendoh, he'd anticipated such a response. "Why do you do this to yourself?" he queried, as if Kaede's silence were a matter of deep personal disappointment. "They're not coming for you, Kaede. You're dead, remember? So just give me the codes, and all of this can end."

Nothing. It was a whole lot like talking to a wall. Sendoh watched intensely, concerned but simultaneously weirdly curious about what would happen.

Norio sighed again as if in regret and gently raised the ankle he had in his hand, resting it on his knee, holding it softly but firmly in his hand. Sendoh licked his dry lips nervously and waited. Kaede still gave no response at all.

Inhaling deeply another round of tobacco, Norio removed his cigarette from between his lips and let out a stream of smoke into the inky air, spooky in the flashlight. Then, with practised ease he pressed the lit end of the cigarette firmly into the bare sole of Kaede's foot.

Kaede's weak body immediately jerked in response to the pain as if a jolt of electricity had run through him. Genuinely the first movement Sendoh had seen him make and the only proof that he was even conscious. Sendoh fell back in alarm, hand over his mouth, sickened by the vision of torture.

Norio did not remove the burning brand, pressing it deeper into the soft tissue, eyes grim as he watched the exposed portion of Kaede's face carefully. The smell of burning flesh leaked into the air.

Kaede's lips parted and let out a long and agonised cry, a steady note which only began to stutter and waver as the trembling instincts of his body overrode him, causing him to attempt to struggle desperately out of Norio's unrelenting grasp. He could not free himself.

Norio only released him once the light had burned itself out. Then, to Sendoh continuing horror, he reached into his pocket and lit another cigarette.

"I'll ask you again" Norio said, lifting Kaede's other foot and Sendoh turned away only to be physically sick, bringing up a wave of acid from his empty stomach, reeling. "The codes for the Tokyo sect."

"Don't…" the plea escaped Sendoh's lips without his consent. It was weakness, he knew, but he couldn't help it. His eyes were drawn to the scene irresistibly.

He didn't know why he should compromise himself of behalf of a stranger, least of all a stranger who had stubbornly ignored him all day, but still there was something about him that inspired… what? Perhaps it was pity. Perhaps it was some bizarre form of respect. Awe. Whatever information the boy was protecting he was clearly protecting it with more strength than Sendoh would have believed possible for anyone. Either that, or he was simply mind-shatteringly mad.

However, it seemed that after having enduring the agony once, Kaede's composure had broken down. He tossed his head from side to side nervously, hands clenching and unclenching in their restraints as he gnawed whimpering at his own lips.

But he gave Norio no answer.

Despite being alone, afraid and in great pain, he did not give in. Did not compromise. Refused to be forced.

And even as Norio set about mutilating the sole of his other foot, and even as the boy cried and thrashed in his private closed-shutter world of agony, Sendoh was rendered speechless. Crouched horrified in the dark like a silent voyeur, utterly powerless to do anything, he was struck most keenly, once again, by the awing concept of the _exception_.

What did it mean to be that boy? To be outside.

To be alone.

Sendoh began to wonder whether he was strong enough, not to _be_ an exception, but even just to be in its presence.

~tbc

ANs: _Fucked-up! __Just __can__'__t __resist__ messing with Kaede__. __Sorry. __I __know, __I __know__… __I__'__m __a __bad __person._

_To be honest I wasn't actually expecting anyone (except perhaps myself) to like this story. I initially intended it to be short because I had planned only for a short encounter between Sendoh and Rukawa swiftly followed by a rather sad ending._

_Since __you __guys __seem __to __be __more __interested __than __I __anticipated __(*shocked*), __I __have __loosened __up __on __the _reality _thing __and __will __be __going __a __lot __further __into __imaginative __fiction __than __I __initially __intended__._

_It's less accurate to the source material but hopefully a better story. Whether it will work out remains to be seen._


	5. Chapter 5

**Anita:** Thanks once again! Reviews are always hugely appreciated. Its very encouraging to know that folks are actually reading (and hopefully enjoying!) the chapters. I always get super excited to get a review alert email lol. And if you ever have any complaints (no matter how big or how small!) I'd genuinely love to hear them and I'd always take them to heart! ^.^  
>As for Ruru... no I don't <em>always<em> make him suffer but I would be lying if I said this wasn't my favourite way of portraying him. As you said before – he's tough ^.^ He can take it. It always only makes him stronger and I really like his character for that!

**Addicted to SD**: Hi hi! Thanks for the review! Good to see you're still reading along. Yey, go go Kaede ^.^/ Sometimes I wonder whether I'm being too mean to him... and then I think... NAW! Lol xD Please enjoy the next chapter!

**Thine Own Palace  
>Chapter 5<strong>

It wasn't until two hours later that Norio ceased his fruitless efforts. He'd gone through all the motions of threatening, cajoling and reasoning, but all it had ever come down to in the end was Kaede's pain and Sendoh's hands clamped over his ears to block it out.

It seemed senseless. Clearly the boy couldn't speak, and Sendoh was beginning to ponder whether he might not be deaf as well. He certainly did not seem to respond to anything Norio said. So eventually, irritated and angry, Norio left, parting with threats and reminders that he would (as always) be back tomorrow. And Sendoh was left once again to the darkness and the silence.

Except that it wasn't as silent as before.

He was still trembling. Still sobbing softly, panting and hurt. Sendoh pressed his face to the bars. It was truly dark now. Norio had taken the flashlight away with him so Sendoh could make out only a vague outline of the boy and the post that was his prison.

"Hey..." he began comfortingly, addressing the quivering figure, hearing the pleading intonation in his own voice. The stream of whimpering fear and pain was almost impossible to bear. He felt almost as if his own composure was dependant on the boy's strength. As if the boy stood for something so much bigger than himself.

Sendoh really needed him to regain his former composure. He remembered how the boy had seemed so focused and so controlled during the day despite no doubt knowing what was in store for him once the evening fell. It had spooked him at the time, although he thought he understood it now, and he felt all the more sorry for it. "Hey, don't…"

_Don't cry_.

Sendoh wondered if he might lose a grip on his own sanity if his cell mate didn't manage to recompose himself. He certainly felt like he might go mad if he were forced to witness this all over again tomorrow.

But apart from his pitiful pleading mumbles of reassurance he didn't know what to do. What the hell did one say in a situation like this? That it wouldn't always be this way? Encourage him to stay strong? Hope for the future? Believe that whoever it was that Norio had said _wasn't coming for you_ might still be coming anyway?

They would be empty words. Useless.

Sendoh felt helpless. There, pressed against the rusted bars and unable even to reach and touch him. For so long he'd trained his mind to look out only for himself. He'd even taken himself to the knife edge of his morality, hurting others to protect himself from hurt. Even standing on the bodies of those who, in another world might have been his friends, struggling to reach the illusion of safety.

Even though he hadn't managed to bring himself to overpower Fujima earlier that morning, how long would it be before he could? Before he would overcome that next morality barrier and actually rape one of his fellow inmates? One month? Two? He'd make it, he knew he would. He'd thrown away every other scrap of decency in his soul why not take another step. And another. And another.

It wasn't a case of a proverbial slippery slope. No. It was simply a necessary evolution. He was a survivor, and he _needed_ to survive.

But now... it seemed he was going backwards again. He could almost feel it in his cells. Weakness creeping in. His god-given _humanity_. Forcing selfish animalism back as he stared at the crying outline of a creature whose strength and despair somehow… touched him. Ignited something like hope in his chest.

Why?

It wasn't any of his business. He ought to simply look the other way.

Then why was he feeling this pity, this awe, this rekindling credence among the filth and darkest of man's monstrosity. _Shit_.

"I'm…" he began, stammering, casting his mind around for something to say. For anything to say, "…my name is Sendoh. Sendoh Akira."

There was no change in the quiet noises of distress. Maybe he really was deaf. Sendoh sighed and pursed his lips in thought.

"I… I only came to this block last week. Two weeks ago. I can't remember. Not long, anyway." He was rambling but he didn't know what the hell else to say. "I was moved from Block R. I was there for two years"

He might have been imagining it, but perhaps the whimpers quietened. Only slightly. Probably nothing to do with him, but he continued anyway. If the boy was deaf or not listening or mad it hardly mattered anyway.

"I was lucky that I got accepted into the Yunta gang here." Sendoh explained. "We're all from Kanagawa. Have you heard of it?" He didn't bother waiting for a reply, but he did frown in thought. "Maybe you've never been in the main prison…" he wondered how long this boy had been trapped in this place with only the twisted Norio and brief tourists like himself for company.

And so then, for some unknown madcap reason, Sendoh found himself explaining everything he understood about how the gang system worked to this strange outsider.

He explained how new arrivals were _checked _before they could join a gang_._ He told how those who failed the checking were fair game for anyone who wanted abuse them. Beatings. Rape. Slavery. Anything.

The he explained if you were raped – _turned _as they called it - it was game over. You were no longer a man. You were a woman. You were a whore. There was no way to shake off that reputation, that stigma, so the rapes would get worse, get more frequent, get more ugly until you either died or you rode.

He explained that those that rode sold themselves to other prisoners or gangs in exchange for protection. Riding would put a stop to attacks and gang rapes but in return riders were owned. Were slaves. It was perhaps the most dehumanising experience you could go through but most men succumbed to it because being raped by one man was better than being raped by ten.

It was at this point in his comprehensive explanation that Sendoh became aware that the panting and crying had stopped and only a patient silence greeted his words. He really didn't know if his rambling was helping the boy or not – it wasn't as if he received any kind of response - but whether he was successfully distracting him or not, Sendoh somehow guessed the boy was listening.

So he carried on.

He spoke of himself. He spoke of his crimes, conviction and trial. He spoke of the partially organised group of car thieves he'd led and then left behind. He spoke of his mother and his concerns for her, left on her own.

Then he spoke of his disgust with prison life. Of his fear. Of his secret wish to escape the system and how he hated being forced to fight and to abuse those weaker than him just to survive. How he wished there was another way. How he wished it with every single ache of his soul.

And then, to his own astonishment, he spoke of things he'd sworn never to mention in his life.

He spoke of his turning. Of how, when he'd first entered the prison system, he hadn't know anything. He'd been naïve and utterly clueless to just how brutal this society really was. He recounted how, on his first night, six men had popped the lock on his cell in the middle of the night and beaten him into submission before raping him one after the other. He described the memory of his face being pressed down into his pillow, how he'd bitten onto it with the pain and humiliation, and how now, two years later he still couldn't bear to sleep on one. He explained how he'd hated himself for letting it happen. Blamed himself for it. How he'd then been forced to ride for a series of different men for nearly two years before being transferred to this block and the chance to leave the stigma of being a rider behind.

How he scared himself now with the intensity of his conviction to do anything to prevent himself from being in that situation again.

How not a day had gone by in these two years when he hadn't contemplated killing himself.

And so he spoke. On and on. All night. He sat with his forehead pressed to the cold metal bars, and poured his soul out to the boy who sat in perfect silence. And though Sendoh had started this one-sided conversation for the benefit of distracting that boy, by the end it was just as much an absolution for Sendoh. A confession of sorts. A way to purge himself of all the foulness with which he had become imbued.

And though it didn't change a thing in the world, somehow he felt the better for it.

As the air around them lightened with the dawn, Sendoh realised he could see his companion with increasing clarity. Noticed that he'd pulled his feet up and close to his body as if wishing to nurse them, noticed that his blindfold was still soaked with either sweat or tears. Noticed that his head was tilted. Not obviously perhaps, but still tilted only slightly towards him, giving at the bare least the _impression_ that he'd been listening, although it was impossible to say for sure.

Falling into silence Sendoh sighed and yawned, his jaw aching from so much speech after two years of comparative silence. With a stretch he got up from his place on the floor and drifted over to the opposite corner, feeling slightly lighter on his feet for his confessions, sending a stream of urine through the bars of the cell and onto the floor of the vacant cell on the other side.

He felt tired. Physically and mentally. He lay himself down along the back wall, intending to sleep for the rest of the day. As he settled himself down, uncomfortable with his skull rubbing on the concrete, his eyes alighted once again on the still and silent Kaede still leaning against his post. It seemed from the tensed position of his legs that the boy wasn't sleeping. Sendoh watched him for a while longer.

The boy was probably trying to prepare himself, he realised. Getting himself mentally ready for whatever trials were to come that evening.

Pushing that uncomfortable thought to the back of his mind, Sendoh drifted off into a surprisingly restful sleep. A little over twenty four hours to go before he'd be free of this nightmare, and thrown back into the other one.

~tbc

ANs: _Ah! I guess I am a little mean to Sendoh after all. Mehehehehe. Awe. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Anita: **Hmm I will try to follow your suggestion and make sure to portray how Sendoh is affected by Kaede. I will do my best! Thanks a lot for your thoughts I really love to get some guidance as to what is missing in the fic from the reader's point of view ^.^ I hope it can improve :D Please don't be shy about criticism because I am tough like Kaede xD I can take it lol!  
>Untie...? Wish granted! ^.^ (...kind of...) First words...? Shrouded in mystery! lol ^^<p>

**Thine Own Palace  
>Chapter 6<strong>

Sendoh awoke to the sound of jangling keys. He was upright in an instant.

It was dark again, and he'd slept soundly through the entire day, undisturbed by the sun or noises from the distant prison barracks.

As he looked around him now, the fog of sleep dissolving from his mind, he found himself hoping that somehow, for some reason, they had come for him instead. Even though it wasn't time to return to the block, even though he hadn't done anything to warrant their attention. Still, he hoped for it, wishing that he wouldn't have to witness another round of Norio's sport.

There were three men this time, Norio with his flashlight at the front, two more guards behind him chattering cheerfully. It wasn't the fearful brooding silence of last night but something different although equally foul. From their grins and chuckling conversation it was clear: whatever it was, they were looking forward to it.

Sendoh crawled quietly closer through the dark on his hands and knees, gazing through the bars of his cell up at these intruders apprehensively as Norio fiddled with the lock of Kaede's cell. Sendoh passed a concerned glance over at the boy. Kaede did not react to Norio's arrival. It seemed he had successfully mastered himself. Sendoh could only hope that it would last. He wasn't sure he could bear to hear those screams again.

He didn't want the proof that despite his strength, the boy was suffering. He didn't want to acknowledge that Kaede felt pain in the same way he did. He wanted to convince himself that it was easier for Kaede somehow. Because seeing Kaede refusing to give in despite how cruelly he was punished filled Sendoh with the awful realisation that he wasn't capable of the same. Because it _was_ the same. He knew it was. What he went through every day in the block – the riding and the fighting, the crushing wheels of the system. That was _his_ pain. But instead of holding fast as Kaede did, he had given in. He had thrown away all his convictions, all his morals, all his self worth to become a foul slithering, mud-loving creature.

This boy, blind and motionless and silent, was the ultimate proof of Sendoh's failure. Proof that he should have fought harder. He should never have given up on his own soul. No matter what they did to him, he should never have compromised.

He watched now as Norio set the flashlight down and then went around to Kaede's back to fiddle with the handcuffs. The other two men assisted by keeping the boy trapped while he was released, pushing him back against the post with their full weight.

The reason for this became clear because as soon as his hands were freed he struggled. He changed from passive to violent so quickly Sendoh was surprised. Kaede struggled as if he'd only just been caught. As if he hadn't been here for weeks, months, maybe even years. He struggled as if there were a possibility of escape even though he probably knew as Sendoh did, that there was none. Despite his broken and starving body he still had some strength, evidenced by the grunts of exertion uttered by the two men charged with keeping him subdued. They struck him and beat him and wedged him down however they could until Norio managed to reapply the handcuffs that bound his hands behind his back, although this time free from his stake.

Once he'd been successfully restrained they set about delivering a vicious punishment of stomps and kicks to his body and face, talking and laughing together like victorious comrades in celebration, almost as if they'd overcome some great and powerful enemy rather than a defenceless and pitiable creature. The blindfolded boy could only try to curl himself protectively where he lay trampled on the floor at their feet, blows upon blows raining down on him. It was every bit as nasty as the beating Sendoh had had at their hands yesterday.

And then, as he watched, Norio pulled out a short knife and the mood seemed to change. Sendoh bit his lip in apprehension. The steel flashed bright and surgical in the rays of the torch as it was passed from one man to another.

"Cut it" Norio gave the command and the other two set about following his orders, stripping Kaede of his clothes and parting his legs, holding him down while he began to panic and thrash as if familiar with this treatment. Norio put a heavy foot on the back of his neck to keep him in place.

"Just making sure you don't enjoy this" Norio explained silkily to the boy under his foot. The sharp blade was carefully brought shimmering against his skin, "a whore like you would probably love it."

Inserted, Kaede jerked violently, and sliced. A strangled cry and blood poured from his slit opening, the ring of muscles cleanly cut and bleeding freely. Sendoh found himself trembling uncontrollably in horror.

Norio nodded to his subordinates as if granting permission. "Go ahead."

"Can we have him from the front?"

"Only if you want your dick bitten off."

A nervous chuckle sounded as if they weren't sure whether or not he was being serious. Then, as the first man undid his belt, Sendoh abandoned his place as spectator by the bars and retreated to the further side of his cell, putting his hands over his ears and turning his back on the scene, muttering to himself in an effort to block out the noises. Trying to ignore the sound of Kaede's body been ripped open.

He discussed with himself the matter of what he would do when he was returned to his cell tomorrow. He told himself that he would have to convince the other inmates that he hadn't been raped by Norio, because they were bound to assume it. He would need to be stronger, more violent, more dangerous than ever. Perhaps he could make use of Fujima or that other rider to reassert his authority. Force them into serving him somewhere others could take notice – the shower stalls would probably be best. Yes. But then perhaps it would be worthwhile taking a bigger risk to mark himself as more of a threat. Perhaps he ought to poach another gang's ride. He might receive some disproportional punishment but even that was better than bringing his masculinity into doubt. In fact a big brawl might be exactly what he needed to distract attention from the issue.

He planned all this aloud amid the grunts and cries, although he had no real idea whether or not he'd go through with any of it. If he was honest with himself, everything he thought he'd learnt about prison life had been shaken beyond belief by these few hours spent in the company of the strange and silent boy who endured and endured and endured.

Still with his hands over his ears, Sendoh risked a glance behind him. Bodies caught like sculpture in the white light. Skin and clothes and sweat and blood. Blood. The blood was everywhere.

A patch of pale skin caught Sendoh's eye, escaping from between cloth and cruel hands, just a glimpse. The stain of ink. A tattoo? He stared.

23.

A tattoo of the number emblazoned on the lily skin of his back. Sendoh's eyebrows furrowed as a thought came to him. _The numbers_. It was Norio who had mentioned thenumbers. Was it a group of prisoners? Prisoners that Norio was keeping for some reason?

_They're all dead now_. Yes, Norio had said that too.

Not knowing anything more, Sendoh was left only with rampant speculation about who Kaede Rukawa really was and why they were keeping him for information. He turned away again and continued his isolated muttering for as long as it took for the three men to sate themselves at Kaede's agonised expense.

* * *

><p>They left him as he was. Face down and naked on the hard concrete, still handcuffed, still blindfolded, soaked in a pool of his own blood. Sendoh waited until the door had closed behind them before returning to the cellside again to survey what was left.<p>

It was truly a pitiful sight.

"Hey" he called hopefully. "Hey, Kaede?"

No response.

"Come over here, I'll help you" Sendoh urged him, not knowing if he was even conscious or capable of movement. "Come on. Please. I'll help. I'm not going to hurt you."

The boy stirred slightly and he groaned softly. Sendoh's heart sped up hopefully. "That's it" he encouraged him, "this way, over here." He gripped the bars intensely as if he could will the boy to move if he concentrated hard enough. "At least let me remove your blindfold" he persuaded.

The possibility of sight seemed to be too tempting to ignore. With slow and painful movements the boy slowly managed to drag himself up onto his knees in the manner much like the first time Sendoh had seen him when Norio had thrown into the dining area. Something almost animal-like. Something like desperate survival. He was obviously in terrible agony, the blood poured from the wound between his legs, but still he forced himself to move through it, Sendoh's continual stream of encouragement guiding him in the right direction. Whatever else he might be, it was finally clear that he was not deaf.

As he came gradually closer, Sendoh reached as far as he could through the bars to touch him. At the first brush of fingers against his bare flesh the boy immediately recoiled. Sendoh wasn't really surprised considering what the boy had just been put through.

"It's okay" he encouraged him instead, "come on. I can't reach you over there."

Reluctantly the boy came closer. This time Sendoh was more careful not to startle him.

"I'm going to touch your arm" he explained before carefully putting his palm flat against the boy's sweat-cooled skin. He felt a gentle quivering under his fingers, and after giving the boy a moment to adjust to his intrusion, he moved his hand up and down in a gentle stroking action. Slowly he lifted his hands to his shoulder and then up to take a hold of the boy's blindfold. It was thick black material knotted several times around with astonishing tightness. The knot was so caked with dirt and who knew whatever else that it was almost impossible to loosen, although Sendoh persisted determinedly.

"How long have you had this on?" he wondered aloud, mostly to himself although perhaps hoping to catch the boy off guard and trick him into saying something. Unfortunately his experiment failed because there was as usual no reply. Disappointed but unsurprised he continued to work on the knot. He took a moment to appraise the boy's body in the darkness. His cheeks were sallow and pale as was the rest of him. His muscles were all thin and wirey and gnarled, and Sendoh could count every one of his ribs. He seemed quite tall, almost as tall as Sendoh, so whether his thinness was his natural metabolism or a result of malnutrition, Sendoh didn't know. His entire body was marked with scars and welts and burns. There was barely a patch of him left untouched.

With a sigh, Sendoh continued his efforts. It was a good fifteen minutes before he managed to work the knot loose enough to get his fingers into and pull it open. Triumphantly he set about unwrapping the long strip of material from about the boy's eyes. It fell away in dirty curls length by length until, with a final lift of his now aching arms Sendoh removed the last twist to uncover a...

...a face.

A boy.

It seemed crazy but he was really astonished. How easy it had been to imagine him as something inhuman. Monstrous or animal. As if during the time he'd been here the boy's blindfold had become almost an intrinsic part of him. As if he wasn't himself without it. But suddenly he wasn't an animal but he was a person. A person like any other person. With emotion and expression and thoughts and soul.

His eyes were blue and bright and fierce. Full of intelligence and pride, in total contrast to his broken body. One more thing Sendoh realised for sure; just as the boy wasn't deaf, he wasn't mad either. No one see his penetrating gaze and believe otherwise.

He began to wonder whether Norio had not had him blindfolded simply because he could no longer bear to meet his defiant eyes. There was certainly something quite remarkable about him. Sendoh stared back at him in astonishment, while the boy simultaneously took in the sight of him curiously. Sendoh felt like he was being judged, being weighed up by those intense eyes, and the feeling of discomfort crept over him as he fought the urge to look away. He remembered all that he had confessed to this boy the previous night and was all at once ashamed of what he'd revealed.

"Kaede... Rukawa." He repeated his name like a greeting only because it seemed the only thing he could say. The boy he'd addressed as _Kaede Rukawa_ before wasn't the same as this one. The communication that had been so one-sided was suddenly mutual, and Sendoh felt as if he were the one at a disadvantage. After all, he realised uncomfortably, this boy knew a lot about him while he still knew next to nothing about the boy.

But still the boy said nothing, didn't even incline his head, but only stared straight into Sendoh's eyes with a look that seemed to hold great meaning but while could not be deciphered. Sendoh only saw power and pride. It seemed no matter what they did to break his body, there was some fire in him that couldn't be extinguished.

Nervously, Sendoh reached out again to feel the trembling of his thin arms. But he didn't feel quite the same way. No more pity. It was impossible to pity something of such strength. It could only be admired.

"I'm sorry I can't do anything about your hands" he said regretfully, still stroking his bare arms soothingly. When the gentle touch was not rejected, Sendoh allowed his hands to roam softly over him, never intrusively, only simply. Innocently. Curiously. And Kaede bore his questioning fingers patiently with his silent powerful eyes. Sendoh felt like he was being granted something very rare. Like they were sharing something more significant than his easy run of hands suggested. Just like this boy himself – whoever he was – was rare.

Sendoh felt the welts and scars on his neck where he'd been cut or burned. His touch lingered on his collarbone and tired cheeks, even reaching up to brush through his ragged hair. His eyes flashed downwards to the boy's waist, recalling the glimpse of his back that he'd seen.

"You have a tattoo" he remembered aloud, looking up into Kaede's face curiously. "A number. Twenty three, right?"

The boy's gaze remained steady and silent.

"What does it mean?"

Sendoh hadn't really expected a reaction and was taken aback by a sudden well of emotion in the boy's eyes. Sorrow. Abandonment. _They're all dead now. _Sendoh regretted having spoken.

"Sorry" he muttered, falling into an awkward silence.

After sitting close together for a while longer, Kaede shifted and made to lie down tiredly where he was, wincing slightly with the pain his movements reawakened in him. He put his naked back to the bars, curling himself slightly to sleep horizontally for the first time in several days. Regretfully Sendoh removed his hand, but he mirrored the boy's actions, laying himself down too, the two of them almost back to back if not for the metal bars that separated them.

Sendoh lay awake thinking for a while. He could hear the boy's shallow breathing, and feel just a little of his nearby warmth. Although they couldn't fully touch, he still felt as if he were sleeping next to someone. And that was... comforting.

The fear of being alone had become so rotten in the core of him that he hadn't really appreciated just what it meant to _not_ be alone. Matters of protection, or self-interest and self-preservation were rendered redundant by this simply shared companionship. The two of them were here together. Taking some small comfort in each other. That was all.

And although he was still hungry and cold and fearful somehow he no longer felt lonely. No longer a voyeur to Kaede's trials he felt himself a part of them, felt a connection somehow to this boy who lay beside him. The only person in years who had stirred anything like emotion in his soul.

So he closed his eyes and tried to pretend that the unwelcome dawn wasn't only a few short hours away.

~tbc

Ans: _I just want to remind everyone that this fic is based on real life accounts of prison life! While you're all probably screaming in disgust and outrage at my horrible and perverted mind for the appalling way Kaede is raped, I plead innocent and protest that it is a genuine punishment used among certain prison gangs. I read about it during my research ~ would never have thought of something that awful myself please don't think so badly of me wahhh!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Anita:**Ah ha, this time I am trying to write something like the reverse of usual (a "broken" Sendoh seeking strength from a stronger Kaede?) but knowing me I will end up reversing it again before the end. Oh well. I'm glad you didn't mind the last chapter too much! Thanks so much for another review :D x

**Thine Own Palace**

**Chapter 7**

The weak sun through the high windows woke Sendoh from his restless sleep. He blinked in the dirty light, feeling tired and stressed, and wondered at the cause of it for a moment. He moved his hand and felt sweat-sticky skin under his palm. It seemed that during his sleep he had turned and unconsciously reached out for the warmth close beside him, placing a hand on Kaede's thin shoulder.

Sendoh stared at that hand now. It looked larger and stronger that the fragile body that it rested on, but it wasn't. The thought made him grimace.

He let his eyes trace the length of the boy's spine, seeing how his hands were still cuffed behind him, making sleeping uncomfortable. A spectrum of bruises were materialising over his skin where he'd been beaten and kicked during his struggle last night. Sendoh avoided looking down at his bloodies thighs and instead focused on the tattoo he had glimpsed.

It was far more intricate than Sendoh had first realised. It was not simply a solid stamp of colour. Instead the two digits were formed from delicate, entwining threads of ink within which further patterning could be seen. With an almost illusionary quality one could imagine seeing the outlines of further symbols, a bear, a knife, a coin, perhaps more, there amongst the lines. These symbols seemed almost to drift out of the threads of the numbers only to dissolve into incomprehensible lines when eyes tried to focus on them.

If Sendoh had thought that perhaps this brand was something done by Norio, that impression was now overturned. It was far too beautiful of a thing to have been produced by that twisted man.

_A __gang __tattoo._Sendoh realised.

Sendoh frowned and found himself once again wondering, _Who __is __he? __Why __are __they __doing __this __to __him?_

Unfortunately the only person who might give him answers was unable to communicate them, and so Sendoh's curiosity had to go unsatisfied. Still it bothered him. It didn't make sense.

He felt Kaede beginning to stir under his fingers and watched as his body slowly uncurled, legs stretching out gracefully until, with a sudden sharp hiss he froze, jolted by the pain which his slumber had abated.

"Are you okay?" Sendoh asked with concern.

Suddenly startled by his voice so close by, Kaede immediately moved away alarmed, out of Sendoh's reach and planted him with an uneasy stare. Sendoh frowned regretfully.

"I didn't mean to startle you" he said placatingly, to which there was of course no reply. Sendoh sighed slightly. "Sorry."

After a moment, Kaede's expression seemed to relax and he looked away almost as if embarrassed by his own skittishness. The humanness of such a feeling caused Sendoh to smile at its rarity. Kaede did nothing more.

"Uhm" Sendoh began after a moment, filling the silence a little. "I think I'll be taken back to the main block today."

Kaede gave no reaction and Sendoh fidgeted awkwardly. "Actually, I..." he admitted what had been troubling him throughout the night, "...I'm worried about... uhm... leaving you alone. I mean er..." he frowned, "...will you be... okay?"

It must have been a really crazy thing to say because the stare Kaede fixed on him then was full of genuine puzzlement. Of course, Sendoh realised, he'd only been here for two days while Kaede had been alone here long before. Perhaps to Kaede nothing had really changed, but Sendoh felt like he'd been sucked into the boy's world. It wasn't so easy to leave now he knew what Kaede was going through. Just imagining him alone in the silent darkness after another bout of Norio's attention, without a single person to witness his suffering was an unbearable thought.

But even as he thought it over, Sendoh realised that that wasn't the only reason for wishing to stay. If he was honest with himself, he was more selfish than that still. Even if he would stay solely for Kaede's sake, the truth was that he was equally unhappy about returning to that twisted prison society. He was tired of it. Exhausted, even. The constant fear of making a mistake, of falling. It was like living in a nightmare.

He hadn't eaten or drunk anything in two days, hadn't washed, slept on the cold floor amid his own filth, and yet still he'd prefer to endure his discomfort here with Kaede rather than return to the incessant terror of life in the main building.

But he had to look away from Kaede's stare now. It was shameful. How could he lament his situation when Kaede's was so much worse? How could he possibly complain about his lot in front of him?

"Be thine own palace."

Sendoh's head shot up so quickly he felt dizzy. He stared at the boy who in turn stared right back serenely. He didn't look any different from a moment ago, motionless, quiet, eyes full of the same unfathomable depths. But, and Sendoh looked around him first to make sure, there was no one else there. He leant forward, gripping the bars tightly.

"What?" he queried hoarsely.

Kaede did not reply. Sendoh wondered if he was perhaps after two days without water he was going mad and hearing things. His furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "You... you just spoke" he stammered, "You _did_ speak, didn't you?"

Kaede pursed his lips slightly. "I speak when I want to," he said, thin indignity in his voice.

This time it was definitely him. Sendoh saw his lips move, and he fell back from the bars in astonishment. "Norio said you didn't talk," he said, almost in accusation.

Kaede only shrugged.

Reeling with this late-day surprise, Sendoh couldn't form a single question on his tongue even though he had so many to ask. Instead he only echoed the boy's words in confusion. "Be thine... own palace?" He tilted his head confusedly. "What... what does that mean?"

There was no reply as Kaede was busying himself with trying to sit up without the use of his hands, wincing painfully as he put weight into his rear. Sendoh watched him struggling, unable to assist.

"Who..." he began again "...who _are_ you?"

Kaede looked up and met Sendoh's slack expression with his sharp eyes. He seemed to pause as if thinking. Sendoh watched him intensely, waiting with barely restrained patience for an answer. He wanted to know more. He wanted to know so badly.

A bang sounded along with raised voices. Kaede's jaw snapped shut and Sendoh whirled around in alarm to see two figures enter the building, walking in their direction, their footsteps loud on the concrete floor. One was Norio, the other was a taller man in a smart suit who looked distantly familiar although Sendoh couldn't place him. He immediately retreated from the bars to avoid looking as if he and Kaede had been talking together. Kaede also abandoned his attempts to sit up and simply rolled to face away from Sendoh, giving the same impression.

Expecting that they were finally coming for him, Sendoh felt both regret and disappointment. But, to his surprise, the two men stopped instead by Kaede's door and looked through the bars at him as if studying a curious zoo animal. Kaede didn't move from where he lay.

"What the hell, Norio?" The taller man exclaimed in anger, his eyes moving over the blood that had dried dark on the concrete and was still streaked over so much of Kaede's bare skin, "Are you seriously trying to kill him? Dead men can't fucking talk."

Sendoh tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible, not moving a muscle though he sat in full view, it wasn't as if there was anywhere to hide. Still, he hardly breathed as he watched them silently, praying not to draw their attention.

Norio rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't make much difference" he grumbled under his breath. "It's not like he talks anyway."

The other man immediately whirled upon him. "Don't give me that bullshit. You've kept me hanging for long enough. Have you forgotten how much I'm fucking risking over this?"

Norio stared up at him defiantly, not giving ground even as the man leaned forwards, bearing over the shorter overseer threateningly. "You told me you could get the codes from him" he accused angrily. "Now you're telling me you can't do it?"

"He's..." Norio began, eyes glinting dangerously with malice "...he's tougher than he looks."

"Wasn't he meant to be the weakest one? You said he was the... the what now? The rider?"

"Not exactly," Norio refuted with a curl of his lip. "The _numbers_ didn't have riders, they had..."

"Whatever," the other man interrupted him mid-sentence with a casual wave of his hand, "doesn't matter what you call them, bitches are all the same. He was still the _woman, _right?" He chuckled nastily in amusement.

"...something like that" Norio responded coldly.

"Well anyway" the taller man huffed. "Get Ishizuka over here before he bleeds to death. He's the only one we kept alive, so we'd better bloody well keep him that way. _Alive_. I need those fucking codes. The Tokyo sect are a goddamn thorn in my side. Time's running out, and the elections are coming up."

"Right, Tsuki-san."

Sendoh barely held back his choke of surprise at the name. Of course he recognised the man. He was Tsuki Matadori, the government's own minister for justice.

"Hm" the politician looked over Kaede's cell and motionless body for a final time. "Well, let's go discuss this somewhere more pleasant, it fucking smells like shit in here."

"Let's get back to my office," Norio agreed, turning to follow Tsuki as he moved away, heading back towards the door. He spared Sendoh a glance, clearly well aware of his presence even if Tsuki had seemed oblivious to it. The glance was like a reminder that Sendoh hadn't been forgotten about.

When the door slammed closed again, Sendoh let out a sigh of relief. However, if he had hoped to continue his conversation with Kaede after the men had left he was disappointed. It seemed Kaede was no longer in the mood to interact with him. He simply lay as quiet and as still as he had before, and nothing Sendoh said caused any kind of response.

_Preparing __himself __again? _Sendoh wondered finally, sitting back and sighing with disappointment. He recalled the conversation between Tsuki and Norio and realised that Kaede probably expected a difficult night ahead as a result. It was disappointing not to be able to talk to him but Sendoh knew he couldn't exactly complain considering Kaede's situation. Instead he only felt his regret over leaving more keenly than ever.

Kaede didn't look up even when, less than an hour later, Norio's two guards finally came for Sendoh. Letting themselves into his cell, they beat him harder than ever, freshening up the bruises and wounds that had begun to heal over the past two days, cracking his skull against the concrete floor and kicking him viciously in the face until blood streamed so thickly into his eyes that he couldn't see.

As they pulled him out of the cell, he only managed to catch one last fogged glimpse of the back of the boy who lay naked and wounded on his side, staring down the approaching black night silently.

Dragged back out into the lying sunshine of the external compound Sendoh had to squint his eyes as they moved through the air towards the buildings. He was barely aware of anything as he was pushed through doors and corridors and finally into the dining hall, no real concept of how beaten he appeared to their eyes as he fell to the floor under the gathered stares.

That insane society.

The complete and utter madness. The lowest festerings of humanity.

Yes. He was back.

Remembering once again the importance of machoness he knew he couldn't wince and whimper on the floor no matter how badly he was hurt. Instead he grunted his way back to his feet woozily and stared back at them defiantly.

"What the fuck do you think you're looking at?" he demanded of the populace in general. Picking fights was, as always, the best way to prove strength. Especially given the state he was in right now. He knew no other response would be acceptable.

There was a bark of amused laughter from the crowd and Sendoh became aware of a shock of red hair coming good-humouredly his way. Sakuragi landed a hefty thump on his arm in welcome.

"Hey" he grinned, and had nothing else to say.

Sendoh held back a wince Sakuragi's palm connected with a bruise. "Hi" he replied equally blandly, as he followed him limping back over to the familiar Yunta table.

Was it really all just the same as before? He'd truly hoped that there had been some way, some trick, some _magic_ to save him from the falsehoods he imposed on himself every day. That Kaede Rukawa might have been some kind of secret way out. But he'd come away empty handed, with nothing better than a head full of doubts and regrets. He had enough to worry about without adding that boy to the list.

And yet somehow he couldn't get him out of his mind. Even as he looked around the sallow and hard faces around him, knowing that there was danger behind each one, he couldn't focus on his situation. All he could think about was Kaede alone and waiting for the torture that was sure to come. What would they do to him? Would he be okay? Would Norio really send a doctor to him? What if he couldn't recover from whatever they did next?

The thoughts of him floated in Sendoh's head relentlessly. But Sendoh had no freedom in this place. No freedom from the guards, from his fellow prisoners, not even from himself. Everyone was his enemy. Even the gang that sat around him now as his protection would sacrifice him to the dogs if it served their purpose.

The real truth was that he would probably never see that boy again.

And there was nothing he could do.

~tbc

Ans: _Wow, __a __comparatively __non-violent __chapter. __You __read __it __here __first, __folks!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Anita:**Heehee ah, "thine" is just an old-fashioned informal way of saying "your", so the phrase is simply "be your own palace" (consider: I/me/my/mine, you/you/your/yours, thou/thee/thy/thine). Of course, we no longer use the pronoun "thou" in modern day, although you'll see it a lot in literature.

**Addicted****to****SD:**Yay you're back! I'm glad you're still enjoying the story. I hope I can meet your expectations! :o Thanks for your review!

**Thine Own Palace**

**Chapter 8**

The next three days passed like despair and Sendoh's problems only seemed to increase.

Firstly, and most imminently, no matter what he did to deflect the negative speculation about what Norio might have done to him, even going so far as to seek out and fight with individuals who were bad-mouthing him, it wasn't enough. The rumours were impossible to quell. They spread further and further and with increasing validity so that by the third day someone actually had the gall to whistle at him as he entered the dining room. The fight that ensued left him with a bloody nose but as he felt the increasing coolness of Akagi towards him, he knew he was drawing ever closer to expulsion from the gang. Already he could feel malicious eyes on him. Different groups weighing him up so that his skin crawled with their gazes. He knew from experience that his smooth complexion and young face would be to his detriment. Assets which, in another world he might have been proud of he now wished to do without.

Even so, despite staring down this dangerous dilemma, his mind would so often end up straying to Kaede.

Kaede, too, it seemed, had been a rider. Or as Tsuki had so eloquently put it – a _woman_. Because the men in prison were not homosexuals. Fucking a man was not a matter of sexual preference but, in some part an act of necessity, although mainly an act of power. One authority exerted over another.

And yes, perhaps Sendoh could see a little of that in Kaede. He seemed young still, pale skinned, a face that would have been attractively boyish before hunger and neglect had eaten away at it. Certainly he looked like he'd slide into the unfortunate role quite readily. But, Sendoh considered thoughtfully, no _rider_ would show such loyalty to a gang. At least not to the extent that Kaede showed as he refused to divulge whatever secrets Norio was demanding of him. And no gang would have shared valuable secrets with a mere rider in the first place.

Then of course there was that tattoo. It wasn't entirely unknown for gangs to brand their riders, but it was usually more obscene – typically across the buttocks – and far more obvious in its content. But Kaede's tattoo was more beautiful and more elegant than what was reserved for the gang whores.

Well then, Sendoh just couldn't puzzle it out, though not for want of dwelling on the subject.

The possibility of falling back to that terrifying level of slavery himself was increasingly real. In a series of his mind's dark moments it seemed almost unavoidable. He was completely at a loss over how to reassert his position, and being constantly distracted by concerns over Kaede he could barely even sleep at night so that he was endlessly tired-eyed and wretched and unable to fully maintain the powerful façade he so needed.

So it was out of concern for his safety that, on the fourth day after he'd returned, he finally decided to skip the evening's compulsory shower. He was no longer confident of being able to defend himself trapped naked in a roomful of men waiting for the opportunity to jump him.

So he splashed sink water over his hair to make it appear damp, as if he'd already finished bathing, and swinging neatly out of the shower stalls still clothed walked back to his cell with slow, measured steps. There was no one around, apart from the occasional pair of armed guards more interesting in their conversations than in him, but even so he could not afford to appear nervous or afraid.

More than once, as he travelled the bland, empty corridors back towards the cell he was seized by an irrational compulsion to spin around and look behind him, his mind filling the silent corridor at his back with hoards of imaginary enemies, inventing non-existent noises, rustles and breaths, constantly to torment him as he walked. He passed the empty cells with their metal doors ajar, each vacant during this time of the daily hygiene ritual. It seemed to him as if every crevice and corner could hide any number of assailants. The vision of being grabbed and dragged into one of the cells to meet his fate filled his mind relentlessly, but even though he felt nervous and jittery, fuelled by his lack of sleep and gradually encroaching paranoia, still he forced himself to walk slowly and calmly, as if he owned the place. But then he really did hear something.

"No, no you mustn't!"

This time he actually did whirl around. No one there. But he hadn't imagined _that_. He stood stock still, listening. The voice came again, softy wafting in this quiet place:

"Please don't..."

It seemed that Sendoh wasn't the only one to have skipped his shower this evening. Still something struck him as odd. Although the voice was certainly pleading with someone, the strangeness of the sound came from the fact that it didn't seem to be _afraid_. In fact it was almost half-hearted in its efforts. Sendoh wondered at that for a moment before shrugging. As long as they weren't there for him, it wasn't really any of his business. He turned to carry on his way when a final phrase reached his ears.

"Please don't, don't... what if someone sees?"

Sendoh pursed his lips. He hesitated a moment longer, torn between not wanting to get caught up in something that wasn't anything to do with him, and the curiosity of checking on what they might be trying to keep secret. Just a moment, and then he altered the direction of his feet, veering instead for the adjacent corridor leading off at right angles to the one he was one, from where the voice was emanating.

If it was something they didn't want him to see, he decided, he could hardly pass it up.

He passed three empty cells, keeping his footsteps quiet, listening hard until, from the fourth he heard a soft, stifled moan. It wasn't as if he couldn't guess what they were up to, and how some unfortunate rider was being used, but he decided to look anyway, curious over what they had to hide. Taking a breath he strode forward with confident suddenness, rounding the corner abruptly and staring in through the doorway. And there he stood and stared in incomprehension.

Yes it was, as he had expected, one gang member and one rider. Both from Yunta, in fact Sendoh recognised them. He didn't know the name of the rider, but he knew the other man – Mitsui. And yes it was, as he had expected, a fumbled blow job away from prying eyes during shower time. But it was absolutely not as he had expected because for some reason it was not the rider but Mitsui who was on his knees.

"What the fuck?"

Mitsui leapt back away from the cock he'd been sucking as if he'd been electrified. The brightly blushing rider immediately attempting to fasten up his pants hastily.

"What the fuck?" Sendoh repeated again.

Mitsui managed to lurch to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and glaring at Sendoh like a cornered animal. He was a well built man, not quite as tall as Sendoh but certainly stockier. He looked like he could give a hefty punch. He looked like he could fight real good.

Mitsui took a couple of menacing steps towards Sendoh, balling his hands into fists, settling his jaw into a firm line of anger as he weighed up his options. "If you..." he began, eyes narrowed dangerously, "...breathe a _word_ about this..." he swallowed as if he were barely restraining his rage, "...to _anyone_, I will fucking _kill __you_, understand?"

Sendoh blinked in astonishment. "You're a _fag_" he said bluntly, almost in disbelief.

Behind Mitsui, the rider shifted his weight uncomfortably, fiddling nervously with his hem.

"I don't think Norio's newest fuck toy has the right to talk shit to me" Mitsui snarled angrily.

"You're a fucking _fag_" Sendoh repeated yet again, refusing to give ground to Mitsui's angry approach.

"No one's gonna believe a word you say" Mitsui retorted.

Sendoh creased his eyebrows. "Rumours don't work like that" he retorted. "The truth has got nothing to do with it. Norio never fucking touched me, for all the difference it makes. You think you could survive this getting out? You're a moron."

Without warning, Mitsui's fist struck out like lightning. It connected forcefully with Sendoh's right ear, knocking him fully off his feet. The rider let out a startled gasp and moved forward as if hoping to hold Mitsui back but he was knocked away by the enraged man. Sendoh hit the ground heavily with a grunt and the next moment Mitsui was on him, straddling him, keeping him on the floor while he bloodied his fists against Sendoh's face in ferocious rage. Just some wild thing completely lost to reason.

Sendoh tried to reach up to catch his hands or to block the blows, covering himself as best he could, trying to twist away under Mitsui's weight. His fingers caught a hold of the sleeve of Mitsui's shirt and wrenched back violently. The material came away in his hand with a loud tearing rip, torn off at the shoulder.

Mitsui seemed to flag slightly at the noise, looking down confusedly at his broken garment, and with an almighty heave, Sendoh managed to push him away and scramble to his feet, breathing heavily.

"What the fuck have you done, arsehole?" Mitsui demanded, concerned by his ripped sleeve, knowing that he would receive a penalty from the guards for damaging prison property.

Sendoh looked over at him from where he'd slumped back against the opposite wall, hands going to his face and coming away red with blood. He saw that the rider was staring at Mitsui's newly bare arm with wide eyes, a bruise forming over his left cheek where Mitsui had elbowed him, but to which he paid no attention.

"Hisashi" he hissed in concern, nodding towards the man's arm meaningfully.

Mitsui seemed to realise what he was looking at because he tried to clamp his hand over the mark quickly, although not quickly enough for Sendoh to miss a glimpse of it. He immediately stood up straighter.

"What's that?" he demanded, looking at Mitsui's covering hand.

"None of your fucking business" came the reply. But Sendoh was not going to be deterred. Not from this. No way.

"That was a _number_ tattoo" he muttered, hushed, moving closer in earnest.

Mitsui scowled at him. "What's it to you? Are you Norio's pet dog now? Hunting us down, are you? Think you can catch us like rabbits?"

Sendoh was silent in his astonishment. This man was part of the numbers gang. The same gang as Kaede. It was the last thing Sendoh would have expected. It was as if the answers to all his queries were tangible in Mitsui's eyes but he didn't have the first clue as to how to get this man to cooperate with him. It seemed there was the opportunity to learn so much if he could only say the right things now.

He opened his dry lips. "I'm not. I'm not helping Norio. I just want to know... there's a boy. Do you know that boy Norio keeps?"

Mitsui tilted his head, his eyes remaining suspicious. "You mean that Rukawa kid?"

Sendoh nodded. "Did you know he's in the numbers gang too?"

Mitsui raised an eyebrow. "No. We don't know anything about him expect his name. He was already here when we transferred in."

"He's part of the numbers" Sendoh insisted again.

"How do you know?"

"He has a tattoo, just like yours."

"Exactly the same?"

"No, no. His says twenty three. It's on his back."

Mitsui pursed his lips and after a moment let his hand fall, revealing the mark on his arm once again. As with Kaede there were two digits, beautiful and delicate. Except that unlike Kaede's, Mitsui's tattoo read the number _twenty__eight_.

"Tattoos are easy to fake" Mitsui concluded coolly after a moment.

Sendoh blinked at him. "Why the hell would it be a fake?"

Mitsui snorted with derision. "The kid is supposed to be mute. I seriously doubt that he _told_ you he was in the numbers, right?"

Sendoh thought back. "Well... not as such."

Mitsui rolled his eyes. "Well who _did_ tell you about it?"

Seeing what Mitsui was getting at, Sendoh opened his mouth to protest, but Mitsui pre-empted him. "Norio, right?" he turned away as if Sendoh were being hopeless. "Everyone knows Norio hates numbers. It's clearly a ruse. Use a kid to act as bait, tempt us into some daredevil rescue mission for our lost comrade. Don't be so fucking naïve. I'm not going to fall into Norio's little trap."

"It's not a ruse" Sendoh thundered angrily. "If you saw what they do to him..."

"If he really was a twenty three why the hell hasn't he ever attempted to talk to anyone at the times that they bring him out? And why the hell are they keeping him segregated in the first place?"

"Norio wants something from him. _Codes_ he said. Codes for the Tokyo sect."

Mitsui let out a laugh. "That's crazy. Only the leaders would know something like that."

"Well what if he _is_ a leader?" Sendoh insisted.

"That's not possible."

"Why not?"

"Because they're dead" Mitsui hissed bitterly. "They're all fucking dead."

Sendoh opened his mouth to retort but in the face of Mitsui's black expression, hesitated. Mitsui sucked his cheeks in irritation and began to pace back and forth restlessly. _Dead_. It was so final. How did you argue with that?

The rider only looked on in concern at Mitsui's agitation while Sendoh stayed quiet and unhappy until finally, after what seemed like a long time Mitsui stopped pacing and turned to face Sendoh determinedly.

"It's none of your business" he concluded firmly. "And it's none of mine either. So just forget about it."

"Aren't you in the same gang as him? Are you just going to abandon your gang mate?"

"He's not my gang mate" Mitsui snapped. "Even if he was once, not any more. The numbers don't exist any more. Totally wiped out. Fucking extinct. So just forget about it." He snarled as if he was angry, but his voice was bitter. "There's no point in trying to protect someone who cannot protect _you._" Mitsui gave the world a final angry scowl before turning sharply on his heel to walk away. He took only three steps before he paused. Sendoh looked up hopefully.

"Keep quiet about what you saw today" Mitsui added as his final words. "And I'll back you up about that Norio thing. Deal?"

"Uh, yeah, sure." Sendoh agreed.

Mitsui shoved his hands deep into his pockets and stormed away. Sendoh watched him go regretfully. There were so many things he'd wanted to ask, but it didn't seem as if Mitsui would be in any hurry to divulge information on the matter of the numbers gang.

"Damnit," Sendoh cursed to the walls, pouting unhappily.

A rustle of clothes sounded behind him and he looked over to see the rider still there, looking at him silently, curiously.

"What?" Sendoh snapped at him, not in any mood to be consorting with the gang's riders least he be thought of as one of them.

"Don't be angry with Mitsui" the boy said in a soft voice, "he doesn't like to talk about the past."

Sendoh huffed and kicked at the floor. "I need to know more about the numbers" he grumbled, "and that violent and grumpy guy is the only bloody one who might know something about it."

"Perhaps he's not the only one?"

Sendoh lifted his eyes. "Why? Do you know someone else?"

The boy's blank expression did not change. With one hand his lifted he pulled down the neck of his shirt almost teasingly to reveal the skin of his collar bone. _Twenty__five_it read. Sendoh stared in astonishment.

The boy let his shirt go, his eyes taking in Sendoh's surprised expression swiftly. "I'm Kogure Kiminobu" he introduced himself.

Sendoh blinked. "Sendoh Akira" he replied.

The rider, Kogure Kiminobu, lifted one eyebrow in an expression that was not entirely unpleasant. "Well, Sendoh Akira, perhaps _I_ may be of service to you."

~tbc

ANs: I'm curious as to what you think of the _numbers_! Is it interestingly mysterious or hopelessly obvious? Please let me know :)


	9. Chapter 9

_**Anita88: **Thanks for another review ;D I'm not sure about Sendoh. I do really need to work on his character, and I'm not sure I've managed it so far. I really need to try harder on that! I find him a little difficult to deal with and have a horrible tendency to write him weaker than he ought to be ._._

**Addicted to SD: **Thanks for reading! There's a little more information about the numbers in this chapter, I hope it interests you!

**Thine Own Palace  
>Chapter Nine<strong>

_He was a smallish boy. Thin armed and gentle faced. Sure as hell he was no fighter. Born to ride, you might say. Kaede now, he was slim too but he was strong and besides he was... different. Somehow he was unlike anyone else Sendoh had ever met in this appalling place. It was as if the rules just didn't apply to him. But Kogure? No way. The guy just wasn't gang material._

Sendoh chased potatoes around his plate despondently. They looked yellow and unappetising. The seat under him was hard and uncomfortable. The table was sticky with the invisible remains of yesterday's spills. After a few more starchy circlets he pushed the whole tray away with a sigh. His eyes lifted and caught sight of Kogure sitting in his usual place opposite the bitter-eyed Fujima at the end of the table. He stared at them both for moment, trying to see past the bruises and the air of the down-trodden that clung to them like a bad smell. It was hard to do.

_The numbers weren't exactly a gang, Kogure had explained. It was a system of gangs._

A system. Well they certainly had a system now, Sendoh mused, knowing that the ever-present eyes were on him. It was only a matter of time before the damn _system _would swallow him up and spit him back out into a decidedly nastier world. Oh yes, the bruises on Kogure's face and the perpetual limp in his walk were reminder enough of his ever threatening fate.

Always aware of his increasingly-perilous position Sendoh took a surreptitious glance around him. From down the table a thick-lipped man, Tetsuo, sneered at him. Sendoh rejected his instinct to look away and instead narrowed his eyes provokingly back, feeling all the while like a cornered rat.

_I was a smuggler, Kogure had mentioned with a wave of his hand. The twenty fives were smugglers. Thieves mostly, petty criminals, the kind of people with a network. The ones who knew people on the outside. The twenty fives smuggled stuff in – cigarettes, drugs, money, weapons, you name it. They smuggled stuff out sometimes too. Whatever the leaders needed, they got._

_That was how the numbers had worked. They'd recognised skills other than _the two _we have now_.

_There had been more than just fighting or riding._

Imagine a time when there had been more than two choices. Three, if you counted hanging yourself from the ceiling by your own bed sheets. What a beautiful concept. What a wonder that someone like Kogure had witnessed it. To think that it had existed, it had been real and tangible and functioning within memory. And to think that Kaede had come from that world too. The whole thing seemed so exotic, so wondrous, utterly mystical to Sendoh. That prison that had been before.

_Six gangs, six leaders, forming an alliance of _numbers_. Dominating prison society._

It hadn't always been this way. _It didn't have to be this way. _Perhaps there really was an escape. If it had existed before under the numbers it could exist again, and perhaps Kaede was still the key to it now. Perhaps Sendoh had been right about him after all.

Sendoh had known from the moment he'd first seen him that there was something extraordinary about that boy. He existed in the world on a different plane. He wasn't bound by the petty rules of the vicious social system. It didn't matter what Norio did it him, it was still obvious that he was something wonderful. Like nothing could ever pull him down. Like he was the wind.

And yes, Sendoh found it easy to convince himself that Kaede really must be one of the six so-called _leaders _no matter Mitsui's reservations. No other explanation suited him. No amount of logic or history was going to erase him of that blind belief. It was faith. It was religion. It was a desperate man seeing a pin prick of light and putting all his faith in it like it was the light of a merciful god. So what if they had died? Kaede was alive. Kaede had been _born again_.

But, though he saw it as a vision, as a dream, the truth was that Sendoh was fantasising of an age that was already over. The _numbers _were gone, and the unique social system they had implemented had gone with them.

"Hey, Mitsui! Where's your kid?"

Sendoh lifted his eyes sluggishly from his interrupted daydreams to see Tetsuo drumming his fingers on the sticky table. Ah yes, the dream had gone but the nightmare still remained. Opposite Sendoh, Mitsui twisted his lips around his fork hesitantly, his eyes sent drifting irresistibly down the table towards where Kogure and Fujima still sat quietly.

Sendoh could almost feel Mitsui's reluctance. His delay. But after a moment he nonetheless put down his fork and tossed his head soundlessly in the rider's direction. Tetsuo gave Mitsui a toothy grin and, standing up, set off down the table towards Kogure. Sendoh felt his dreams failing him. The _numbers _were gone. They didn't protect Kogure any more.

Tetsuo looked like a spider approaching a butterfly. Almost unbearable, knowing what would happen. Sendoh considered rising from his seat, but what could he do?

He looked over at Mitsui and saw him trembling ever so slightly with both anger and his own powerlessness. And Sendoh knew that Mitsui wouldn't intervene. Mitsui wouldn't act because, like Sendoh, he no longer believed there was anything he could do. Didn't believe it was possible to survive alone. Believed that this was the only way to survive. All the strength and pride of the _twenty eights _had been closed in. Proof that prison walls didn't have to be made of concrete.

Tetsuo took a fistful of Kogure's hair and dragged him back off his stool so that he fell awkwardly backwards, striking the floor painfully. Hardly anyone spared the scene a glance. It was common enough. Kogure tried to move away from Tetsuo's harsh grip and the result was a heavy blow across his face.

Sendoh looked down at his hands that lay idle in his lap. It wasn't right. It was sick. It was fucking sick.

But was he really prepared to risk everything for sake of one rider? He felt as if two worlds were colliding in him painfully. His eyes had been opened to other possibilities but the reality was that his position hadn't changed at all. His eyes fixed on Kogure who still sat on the floor nursing his bruised face and awaiting his fate. Even if he stood up for him, challenged Tetsuo, he'd win nothing, save no one. The price the gang would extract from him was too high. To high to pay for something in vain.

Still, Kogure wouldn't blame him for this. He _cared_, after all. He'd _considered it_, at least. So what if he failed? So what if he couldn't bring himself to move? He gave a shit, and that was more than anyone else would give.

_Be thine own palace. _The words came back to him now for no reason he could understand. He thought once again of Kaede, of the _exception,_ and knew all over again that he wasn't strong enough to break apart from the system. Just like Mitsui. They were both caged in like dogs, unable or unwilling to bite the hand that fed them.

Sendoh dropped his eyes and looked away as Tetsuo pulled Kogure roughly to his feet, clearly far stronger than the smaller boy. Even though Kogure was a veteran of prison life it was obvious that there was no contest between them. Tetsuo motioned for him to head back towards the cell block. Kogure looked as if he wanted to protest, but when he looked over at Mitsui and received no support, the momentary meagre fire seemed to die in him. With heavy, defeated steps he fell into line behind Tetsuo. What other choice did he have?

Rape, Sendoh remembered, was not only an agony of the body, but a decimation of the mind and spirit as well.

Sendoh sat, twisting his hands, trying to ignore his own self-loathing. Trying to tell himself that he was just doing what was necessary. Kogure couldn't be helped. Couldn't be saved. Not by him, anyway. Not today, at least.

_Be thine own palace_.

What did that mean anyway? To look after yourself, to defend yourself from anyone who would knock you down. To protect yourself. That was the only sense he could read into it, Kaede's few precious words to him. He tried to take reassurance from them now. It didn't seem to help. And across the table he couldn't meet Mitsui's eyes.

He clenched his hands in his lap to stop them from shaking.

Suddenly the metal door of the hall clanged loudly against the brickwork like a gong and Sendoh looked up sharply. Tetsuo, who had already reached the doorway, froze in his stride. Behind him Kogure did the same. The whole dining hall fell silent. The reason was obvious.

Standing in the door frame was Norio.

Sendoh felt the fluttering of fear combined with the strange warm hope that perhaps, just perhaps, he'd get the chance to see Kaede again. Have the opportunity finally to reassure himself that the boy was all right. Or, if not all right, still alive at least.

Norio's eyes moved with familiar unsettling speed, taking in the state of the room, swift and calculating. For the first time Sendoh noticed that he was actually quite a short man. Tetsuo so nearby clearly towered over him, even though he hunched his shoulders almost in a subconscious effort to appear smaller. A futile attempt to not attract the man's attention. He wasn't lucky enough for that though.

"Going somewhere?" Norio addressed him coldly into the abrupt silence of the empty air.

"N-no, sir."

"It isn't permitted to leave the dining hall during meal times."

"Yes, sir."

The entire room focused on the exchange, waiting with bated breaths. Tetsuo seemed to be attempting to shrink, his back so hunched that he looked almost deformed. Norio's eyes moved suspiciously over Kogure who stared back with as much defiance as his sallow and bruised face could muster before Norio turned back to Tetsuo.

"I hope you weren't thinking of sneaking off for a quick fuck."

Sendoh licked his lips nervously. The room suddenly felt so tense, so dangerous. Somewhere a knife slipped off the table and the clattering impact against the floor filled the whole room with its unreasonable loudness. The jangling echoed into nothing while all eyes remained fixed on Norio, waiting to see what he would do next.

"I… no… of course I… I wasn't I… I wouldn't… I mean…" Tetsuo stammered under Norio's intense consideration.

There was an unbearable pause. Norio turned his eyes away from Tetsuo.

"And you" he was looking down at Kogure again. "I know you. Former _number,_ aren't you?"

Around Sendoh a few heads lifted. An immediate murmur ran through the gathered inmates which not even Norio's dangerous presence could suppress. _A number?_ they mouthed to one another, sharing glances and looking suitably scandalised. Opposite Sendoh, Mitsui squeezed his eyes closed tight. Sendoh thought he might be praying.

Norio stepped up to Kogure who, to his credit, did not back down although Sendoh had no doubt that he was terrified. There couldn't have been a single mind in the room that wasn't at that moment recalling the sight of Kaede's mutilated body. The perpetual _example_. Norio's _dire warning_.

"I _dislike_ numbers" Norio said threateningly.

Kogure said nothing.

The entire room waited breathlessly.

The next moment Kogure's head struck the sharp edge of a table with a sickening crack as Norio's blow knocked him down. He gasped, collapsing through the bench of a gang Sendoh didn't know in a loud angry rattle of splintered wood and impacting metal. The gang members scuttled out the way like cockroaches as Norio approached ominously slowly. He lifted one heavy booted foot and stamped down on Kogure's face, hard.

The boy cried out as his nose shattered under Norio's heel. An agonised sound like metal on glass. Sendoh watched Mitsui gouge his nails into the table.

Norio spat at Kogure before turning to make his exit, the entire room stunned, his right foot leaving bloody prints as he walked.

"What about the other one?" one of the accompanying guards queried as Norio passed him in the doorway. Sendoh could not hear the reply but saw the guard nod and then turn back to gesture to his fellows back in the corridor behind him. A moment later four men succeeded in manhandling Kaede into the room, smashing his shoulder against the door frame as they came through and knocking his head violently against into the concrete wall so he dropped to the floor dazed. And there they simply left him, handcuffed and silent and hopeless same as last time.

Yet for once the eyes in the room were not on him. Kogure, hands splayed over his face, red and sticky with blood and rolling with agony amongst the ruins of the broken bench commanded everyone's attention.

The silence continued.

Sendoh strained to see over the heads of the others. Kaede, he noticed briefly, was as ever in his own world. He seemed to have no awareness of anything around him. Still crumpled at the foot of the wall he didn't move a muscle. Fifteen feet away from him Kogure's situation seemed much more urgent.

Some of the nearest gangs had risen slowly to their feet, their eyes fixed on the injured rider, their expressions decidedly unfriendly.

"Fucking numbers" someone commented into the quiet, breaking the silence and a murmur of agreement gradually went up from the gathered inmates. Sendoh's eyes were wide as he looked towards Mitsui who was pale as death. More and more people were rising to their feet, moving towards Kogure who was pulled to his feet roughly. The situation was bad. Really bad. Sendoh didn't know where the animosity towards the _numbers_ came from but it was obvious enough.

"Akagi" Mitsui said urgently, turning his eyes up the table and rising to his feet determinedly. Sendoh did the same. The _Y__unta_ gang might not have been able to defend Kogure from Norio, nor from Tetsuo, but they did have a duty to defend their riders from other gangs. At the head of the table the _Yunta_ leader sat with his arms folded watching the developments seriously.

But he made no move.

Sendoh waited with rapidly increasing concern until Mitsui faltered in the face of his inaction. "What..." he stammered, "...what's the meaning of this, Akagi?"

Akagi waved a hand as if in dismissal. The gesture was clear. The others around the table looked cautiously among themselves, waiting to see what would happen. Fujima, Sendoh noticed, had also lifted his head in concern.

"But he's... he rides with us." Mitsui protested in pale shock. "He's earned the gang's protection."

"He's not one of us." Akagi replied. "He's a _number_. I won't have numbers in this gang."

Mitsui opened and closed his mouth in disbelief. Sendoh looked quickly back over towards Kogure who was being shaken back and forth violently by a large, red-faced man amid noises of approval and encouragement. Kogure's neck snapped this way and that sickeningly, blood flying. Sendoh resisted the instinct to gag. If they didn't do something to help him soon, he was going to be lynched. It was no longer a case of rape. They were going to kill him.

Across the table Mitsui turned panicked eyes on Sendoh. "You said you he was a number. A twenty three. Are you sure?"

The words were nearly indecipherable amidst his nervous rush, it was clear that Mitsui was panicking, and Sendoh blanked for a moment before realising that he was asking about Kaede. He nodded mutely.

Mitsui chewed his lip, clearly trying to think things through despite his mounting fear. It made Sendoh wonder, momentarily, just how much Kogure really meant to him. This clearly went beyond gangsters and riders. Beyond the simple matter of honouring an old pact between two fellow former gang mates. But this wasn't the time to dwell on the matter.

"You're a thief, right?" Mitsui demanded after a moment. "Can you pick locks?"

"Well... yeah."

"Handcuffs?"

Sendoh stared wide-eyed as he realised what Mitsui was asking. "I don't think he will help..." he replied awkwardly.

"_Can you open handcuffs_?" Mitsui repeated angrily.

Sendoh's eyebrows furrowed before he grumbled back "I don't know. Perhaps if I had a pin."

The next thing he knew Mitsui had seized his arm from across the table and was dragging him with no small show of strength towards the epicentre of the mob. A few shouts followed them from the _yunta_ table but were ignored. Mitsui elbowed and shouldered his way furiously through the enraged crowd, dragging Sendoh along behind him towards where three of the mobsters had dragged Kogure up onto one of the tables like a makeshift stage and were holding him upright by his hair. The boy was obviously weak with hurt.

As they got closer, Mitsui forced a pin into Sendoh's grip and gave him a nod and a shove, pushing him in the direction of Kaede away by the wall. The boy hadn't moved from his place and was in ever silent danger of being trampled, a danger to which he did not seem to be aware. Sendoh didn't have a chance to ask Mitsui anything as the heaving crowd forced them apart. He only caught his eye briefly before losing sight of him, and with nothing but his own resentment to accompany him, forced his way through the angry mob in Kaede's direction.

He was in a state of hopeless conflict. This, he presumed, could be considered his formal resignation from the _yunta _group. Even if it was bound to happen sooner or later, he felt angry that he hadn't been allowed to make the decision for himself. Mitsui had had no right to drag him into this goddamn mess. If they even came out of this alive it would be a miracle. And even if the crowd somehow failed to murder them for being _numbers_, Sendoh was sure Norio was watching everything from the wings. This was going to turn out very dangerous for him. And even though yes perhaps he felt bad for Kogure, had he been given the chance to choose, he honestly wouldn't have chosen _this. _It seemed to him little better than suicide.

But even that realisation, he thought as he dropped down beside the silent Kaede, was mixed with a weird and twisted gratitude. He'd thrown in his lot with the _numbers_. He hadn't been strong enough to make the decision for himself so perhaps he ought to be grateful to Mitsui for forcing him into what, at the end of the day, he perhaps believed was right. Wasn't this, in the depths of his heart, what he wished he could do? Stand up the system. Be, somehow, _exceptional_?

Well, now he was doing it.

Swallowing his reservations he took Kaede by the shoulders and shook him gently.

"Kaede? Kaede it's me, Sendoh Akira. Do you remember me?"

There was no response. His eyes were closed. Sendoh couldn't help believing he might even be unconscious. What the hell Mitsui was thinking he didn't know. Asking Kaede to help was worlds beyond pointless. The boy was in no state to do anything. He probably couldn't even stand up.

Someone forced their way past behind and and shoved him with their leg so he was knocked forward to his hands, leaning over Kaede, almost touching him. The boy seemed even smaller from this close. The outline of his bones were visible under the weak layer of skin. He smelt strangely musty, like clothes left sitting in the damp for too long. He was frail and meagre and sickly.

But, feeling Sendoh's breath on his cheek he opened his eyes and Sendoh was momentarily blinded. Despite his failing shell of a body, he was full of fire. Full, full, full. Sendoh felt his blood thump angrily through his veins. He wanted to share in that heat. Whatever drove this boy to such strength, Sendoh wanted it. Like a drug. Like, if he could share it only for a moment, he'd be better, he'd be stronger.

But for now. For now...

Gently he took hold of Kaede's arms and reaching around, set to work using the pin Mitsui had given him on the handcuffs. Kaede at least seemed to understand what he was doing, and kept still. As he worked, the noises from the crowd seemed to rise and fall and change although Sendoh did his best to pay no attention to his surroundings, concentrating on his task. He guessed Mitsui had reached the bench-come-stage, and whatever he was doing was causing a reaction, although whether it was good or bad, crouched down on the floor Sendoh couldn't tell. Kaede was staring only at the floor in some kind of confused stupor.

It was only once the handcuffs opened with a click that Kaede turned his eyes to look at Sendoh. His stare was full of question. Unable to meet his eyes, Sendoh concentrated on his wrists which, he saw, were scabbed and sore from rubbing against the metal for however long he'd been forced to wear the infernal things. But when Kaede's curious stare did not relent, Sendoh found himself almost forced into speech.

"Uhm..." he began awkwardly, eyes looking anywhere but into Kaede's face. He didn't have a clue what Mitsui was expecting to gain. "My... friends..." he gestured weakly in the direction Mitsui had gone, although neither of them could see anything but feet and legs from where they sat on the floor, "...some trouble" he finished lamely.

Kaede continued to stare at him. Sendoh could almost feel the question – _what has that got to do with me?_

Yeah, he mused silently to himself, he was almost asking himself the same thing.

"They're both, uhm, _numbers_" he explained. "And I think... I think they thought you might... well... help them. Somehow. I don't really know."

Kaede's stare didn't change. Sendoh hardly expected anything less. It was obvious that there was little or nothing he could do. One badly beaten boy against the rising hordes. He might be exceptional, but it wasn't as if he could work miracles. Sendoh sighed heavily and kept his eyes on the floor.

The word came softly, hoarsely, the sound of a voice so rarely used it seemed to be skating on fly paper.

"Friends?"

Sendoh looked up at him again. His expression hadn't changed, still blank and relentless, no emotion, no clue as to what he might be thinking at all. And yet, he had leaned forward. Ever so slightly. Ever so slightly closer to Sendoh.

"Ah... yeah" Sendoh realised, "I guess." Mitsui and Kogure, his friends? What an odd word to use in this place. _Friends_ here tended to be no more than useful people to forge alliances with. A closed society, it wasn't like there was a great deal of choice of who to spend time with. And allies were important, gang acceptance was important, but friendship – _likeability, _shared hobbies, interests, hearty conversation _-_ was mostly irrelevant.

Still Kaede was watching him and Sendoh fidgeted slightly. He felt like his soul was being pulled out through his eyes. Again he felt the pressing need to justify himself.

"Kogure is a good guy" he said honestly, "I want to help him."

Only the tiniest flicker of a relation in his eyebrow that was gone as soon as it came, and Kaede reached out a hand as if silently asking Sendoh to help him to his feet. Slightly surprised at the gesture, Sendoh immediately did so, looping Kaede's thin arm over his shoulder and holding his thin body by the waist, gently helping him up. It was easy to do. He weighed nothing at all, like he was made of paper.

Once on his feet Kaede staggered slightly, leaning a hand against the wall to steady himself, but after the initial blood rush he straightened, maintaining a surprising amount of poise in his stance. Sendoh hadn't thought that such a slim and sickly build could create such an intimidating form, but somehow he did so. He just had a presence that no injury or disgrace could lessen.

The crowds seemed to part for Kaede naturally. Mitsui had had to fight his way through, but the inmates naturally fell back from Kaede as if he were a ghost walking in their midst. No one had ever seen him do anything before, Sendoh presumed. He had always appeared unexpectedly in their midst, isolated and terribly wounded, the symbol of Norio's influence, the means by which he harvested their fear. He'd been nothing more than a doll, a painting, perhaps even a myth.

But he approached the table now with quiet measured steps, silent, easy and confident. All Sendoh had to do was follow in the gap his passing left behind.

Mitsui, Sendoh now saw, was in a bad way. He must have been an exceptional fighter because despite everything he stood on the table still, feet spread for balance, his fists raised, blood pouring into his eyes amid all the cheering and goading for the fight. Kogure lay unconscious at his feet, and six men surrounded him, each already showing signs of battle, but each with a dozen more at his back waiting to take their places. As Sendoh and Kaede came closer, Mitsui swayed slightly where he stood, uncertain on his own feet, but nonetheless clearly prepared to fight even to the death. His sleeves had been pulled back revealing for the first time perhaps in years that tattoo which he now displayed proudly. He was a twenty eight. He was a number.

They reached the very edge of the table just as Mitsui took a heavy blow to the head and was sent staggering to the side, nearly losing his footing and falling from the height. A second man immediately launched himself at him, landing a fist in the unprotected flesh of his stomach. Mitsui grunted with the impact and spat a glob blood from his mouth. He raised his arms instinctively to ward off the next blow, but it was not forthcoming. Uncertainly Mitsui looked up and over his guarding arms and saw that his assailants had all become distracted by the sight of Kaede climbing unsteadily onto the table to join them, wincing slightly with the pain of his movements.

They looked at him as if he were an alien. A completely unknown entity. Even the cheering from the crowd slowed to a confused murmur at the sight of him. He seemed so pained, so weak and frail, they couldn't have been more confused to see a lamb climbing up among them. Sendoh held his breath.

Gasping with the effort of his movements, Kaede managed to straighten up so he was standing on the table silently, staggering slightly as if dizzy, taking careful sight of the men around him.

The men stared back in confusion.

It seemed an odd kind of stalemate for a moment before one of the men finally stepped forwards.

"What the hell do _you _want, punk?"

Kaede looked at him silently, not moving, not reacting, just still and unrelenting. The man balled his hands into fists.

"Listen, punk. This ain't none of your business so just fuck off, all right?"

It was clear they all held some odd kind of fear of him, as if he were in part a piece of Norio himself. No other inmate would have been given a chance to retreat, that was for sure. Anyone else would have been struck already. But there was something unique about Kaede, and clearly it wasn't only Sendoh who recognised it. He didn't have to say or do anything to make them all hopelessly nervous.

"I said fuck off, got it?" the man repeated angrily, stepping close to Kaede in an attempt to intimidate him. But Kaede gave no ground, staring up at the taller and stronger man with his unsettling eyes.

Sendoh swallowed nervously from where he stood on the floor just below where Kaede was on the table. He had no idea what Kaede would, or even could, do in this situation.

"You deaf or what?" the man demanded, reaching into his waistband and pulling out a roughly carved shank made from the melted handle of a toothbrush. He waved it menacingly at Kaede, and when Kaede made no response, finally thrust the sharp thing towards Kaede's face. It caught his cheek, just a shallow scratch which immediately ran with bright red blood, but Kaede didn't so much as flinch. Instead he brought up his knee and struck the man soundly between the legs, causing him to immediately double over in pain, spluttering curses, eyes watering.

Taking advantage of his momentary lapse in concentration, Kaede walked around the man until he stood directly behind him. With practised and accurate movements he reached forward to take the man's head gently in his hands and with a sudden unexpected snap of his arms, wrenched his head to the side.

The crack of splintering vertebrae was audible throughout the room.

Sendoh sucked in his breath in horror as the dead man slumped to the floor at Kaede's feet.

Before anyone had time to react, Kaede had reached down to snatch the shank that fell from the man's now-limp hand and turned to the right only to shove it as far as it would go into a second man's throat. Blood sprayed like a fountain as the doomed inmate dropped to the floor with a final, astonished gurgle, his wide eyes registering his last moments of surprise.

The rest of the men around the table began to back away.

As the sick sound of dead flesh collapsing down in a crumpled heap sunk its way into Sendoh's mind, he found he had to put his hand over his mouth to stop himself being sick.

Mitsui – apparently unaffected by the sight of the violent deaths - was immediately beside Kaede, still panting from his earlier efforts, wiping blood out of his eyes.

"Anyone else want to challenge the numbers?" he shouted loudly at the populace in general, raising his bloodied fists in readiness, animated with adrenaline and anger. Kaede beside him remained silent but firm, the weapon clutched tightly in his hand.

The sight of these two badly beaten and wounded boys invoking the name of the numbers and defiantly challenging the entire prison population seemed too much to comprehend. There were no takers. Some groups began to slink back. The momentum of the mob had been broken, and the dead men stared silently on.

As the crowd began to fragment and break away, only Sendoh was left standing and staring dumbstruck at the corpses so nearby. He felt small. He felt uncertain. He might have stood there indefinitely if Mitsui hadn't noticed him staring transfixed into those empty bleeding eyes and offered out his hand.

"Hey, Sendoh, you're with us."

Sendoh stared first at the hand, and then at the nearby body crumpled, neck snapped on the table. Then he turned away and was violently sick.

* * *

><p>Norio twirled a pencil around his fingers thoughtfully as they reviewed the footage from the security cameras installed in the dining room.<p>

"Finally" one of the aides exclaimed excitedly, leaning close to the monitor "this is the first time we've seen him act in years."

Norio made no immediate reply.

"Is it beneficial to allow him to interact with those numbers? Perhaps it will make him easier to break? Its obvious that we're making no progress otherwise."

"He's never reacted to other numbers before. Don't you recall the experiments? Why this time, why now?"

"Perhaps because it wasn't staged by us?"

"No" Norio spoke up finally, staring intensely at the screen. "It wasn't the numbers."

The three other men in the room looked up at him curiously. Norio tapped the screen with the end of the pencil, indicating a tiny pixelised figure. "It was _him_." Everyone squinted curiously at the screen. "He reacted to _him_."

"Prisoner 067841, Sendoh Akira" one of the aides read from the sheet. "Serving twelve years for three counts of grand theft auto. Twenty six years old, unmarried, heterosexual, no known numbers or yakuza affiliation."

Norio looked down at the photograph clipped to the file. It showed a handsome, slightly arrogant young man at odds with the nervous and more unassuming prisoner he saw in the video.

"Does he look like a killer to you?" Norio queried quietly.

The other men turned their attention to the picture. "Not... not really..." one suggested uncertainly after a moment.

Norio nodded in agreement. "Then why would the twenty three be interested in him?"

His aides exchanged uncertain glances and shrugged. Norio straightened and rocked slightly on his heels, chewing the end of the pencil, deep in thought.

"This might be it" he said finally, looking up at the ceiling intensely, trying to keep his excitement out of his voice. "This might be what I've been looking for." They stared at him, uncomprehending, so he continued in explanation, "This might be the chink in his armour. Apprehend them and put them together, I want to see what happens."

The men around him nodded in understanding and turned to one another, eager to discuss new plans. Norio stared down at the open file thoughtfully.

_Sendoh Akira, huh?_

He couldn't hold back the cold, satisfied smile that broke over his lips. With a slow crunch, he snapped the pencil in one fist.

~tbc

Uh this chapter took simply AGES. I'm sorry I haven't updated in a few weeks. Its coming up to the end of the school year and to be honest I'm literally drowning in school reports to write and end-of-year show rehearsals to attend. I'm still plugging away though!

Please take a moment to let me know what you think! :D Reviews are my oxygen xD


	10. Chapter 10

**Addicted to SD:** Hi hi, thanks a lot! Work is all finished now, hopefully I can get back on with working on this a little bit faster. I'm hoping to bring a few more characters in soon and build up the gang a little bit more. We'll see how that works out lol. Thanks for your review!

**Anita**: :D Hey~ yeah you're right Sendoh is a little useless right now, but I'm hoping to get a sense of "awakening" for him. I definitely want to try and give him his moment in the spotlight for a change so I hope I can meet your expectations with that!  
>Thanks also for your review on Virga. That fic was a bit of an experiment – I wanted to try and give the idea of a backstory without actually telling it. I think I may have made it a little TOO obscure haha. I don't think anyone got at all LOL opps! I'll try harder next time :P<p>

**Tidbits: **:D So glad! Really happy that this fic is making people take an interest in the conditions of prisons. That was a big part of the purpose :D I'm already planning "your chapter" wink nudge hahaha. Look forward to it xD (PS Gosh, I wonder if some of my "side" characters count as OCs? :P Shocking stuff.)

**darkhooded-angel: **OMG I totally didn't notice the Michael Jordan thing AT ALL. God I feel mortified now hahaha. How embarrassing! I'm so glad you're enjoying this. It's a little different from most fics and I wasn't expecting anyone to really like it so I'm really grateful that you do :D The 23s… what do they do… hmm… I wonder :P Kekekeke.

**Reodavle:** Hey you're back! :D Welcome! Again I'm so glad this fic is making people think about the real life situation. You're right, it really is so much worse.  
>Ahaha, I do love making Rukawa awesome xD I'm just a hopeless cureless fangirl.<br>Ending? Gosh, who knows! :D

**Thine Own Palace  
>Chapter 10<strong>

Someone who would choose death over capture. Who would rather kill than surrender. Who would give up without question the chance of tomorrow; blow out like a candle the last wisps of hope. Sendoh stared through the bars at him now, awkwardly curled, apparently sleeping, knees drawn to his chest in comfort, and tried to imagine the landscape of such a mind. He could only find one thin and haunted word: despair.

The four of them sat together in the cold and damp separated only by bars. The smell of must and decay tickled at their throats. Opposite Sendoh, in a cell on the other side of the walkway, Kogure was laying flat on his back, arms and legs gently spread, just breathing and shivering. Shock, Sendoh supposed. In an adjacent cell Mitsui was pacing back and forth and had been doing so for the past two hours. Sendoh did his best not to look at him in case Mitsui's agitation infected him too. They had nothing to do but wait and try not to imagine. Neither dreams of escape, nor visions of pain, for both were as crippling as each other. Don't think. _Don't think of anything._

Sendoh took a steadying breath through his nose and let it out through his mouth. It sounded like a rattle amid the silence made staccato by the regular tread of Mitsui's feet.

Perhaps it was unfair, all over again, that he was here. But here he was regardless of fairness, reason or karma. He hadn't fought, after all. Hadn't climbed up onto that table or surged forward with the mob. He wasn't, after all, a _number_. Then, he wondered, why was he here amongst their memories? He could almost hear them echoing, this last place, the last comfort, the last warmth before they'd been led out to their deaths. Six men said to have been the six leaders of the most violent prison gang in the world. Or, if Sendoh's fancy told it right, perhaps there had been only five gifted to the executioner and the tabloids that day. One more had been left, alone, silent amid his own screams, dead in so many more ways then the comrades who had abandoned him.

The leader of the twenty threes. A title, a name, they were easy to pin on him. But… who he was. But what he saw when he opened his eyes, and what he saw when he closed them. How could that ever be grasped?

Sendoh tried to push the thoughts out of his mind, knowing they would do nothing but injure him, tried to stop himself from wishing, hoping, _dwelling_, but somehow it was hard to do. It was like a bitter pulse, insistent and nauseous, making his head ring.

He drew his knees close to his chest and turned his head miserably, sweeping his gaze over the many dark and empty cells leading towards the outside door, over the pacing Mitsui, over the panting Kogure, coming full circle to rest again upon Kaede.

Two blue eyes stared straight back at him. Sendoh nearly jumped.

Kaede was not asleep. He was watching Sendoh intensely, blank and unblinking in his stare. Sendoh swallowed. There was something in that gaze which made him cold. He looked away unsettled and didn't dare to look in Kaede's direction again.

He frightened him. Just as much as he inspired him. His strength, his fearlessness, all of him was equally astonishing and equally gut-churningly terrifying. How obvious, how clear, the blood that pounded in Sendoh's temples and told him: this boy is dangerous.

So much more dangerous then Mitsui. Perhaps even more dangerous than Norio. Sendoh dropped his chin to his chest and squeezed his eyes closed tight. He could still feel Kaede's gaze on him. He didn't know what he was meant to do. Surely there wasn't anything that he could.

Still, despite his discomfort and unease, Sendoh must have fallen asleep because the next thing he was aware of was his cell door being opened and two guards entering and hauling him to his feet. They had him and were pushing him roughly out through the cell door even before he had blinked the surprise from his eyes.

Mitsui looked up at him, watching the development silently, eyes assessing, calculating frantically, seeking any tiny sliver of salvation. Kogure seemed to be sleeping. Kaede, of course, did nothing.

For a moment Sendoh wondered whether he was being returned to the main block, whether they'd decided he didn't belong here after all, and couldn't reconcile the strange mixture of guilty hope and shameful selfish fear that scenario boiled up in him.

Next came the more sobering possibility that perhaps they had singled him out as the weakest of the four and were preparing to do some interrogation. That idea generated nothing but empty, shivering panic. Suddenly he couldn't speak, not even to protest, his fear clamped down on him so hard. Suddenly he could barely move, his whole body turned limp, beyond his control, his mind shutting protectively down. It didn't matter though, they hauled him away anyway, and none of them spoke out on his behalf. None of them shouted in his defence. Even though he knew they couldn't help him, he still felt weirdly betrayed.

Outside the sunshine was as bizarrely alien as always. It always astonished him now: the sun. Almost as if every time he walked back inside a cell, he were afraid it might die before he had the chance to emerge again. Still now he walked under its welcome rays numb. His lungs felt like ice, dreadful and heavy in his chest.

They entered the main building through the now almost familiar series of doors and holding rooms, but did not head for T Block. Instead they followed a lighter, cleaner corridor which traced the edge of the building such that one side was lined with doors and the other - miraculously – with windows. They were heavily barred, of course, but still light streamed through to make the air dance with particles of dust as the unwieldy trio moved through. Just the sight of it all, crisp and cleanly and bright, gave Sendoh unreasonable hope. This was not part of the prison, he realised, but an administration area. And administration meant something orderly. Something understandable. Something… fair. Perhaps someone would hear his story. Perhaps someone would save him.

The door they stopped before was smart and official. It had a plastic plaque, neat and square, with a name – _R. L. Norio _– and job title – _General Overseer_ - and even though Sendoh knew the man, he couldn't help but feel comforted to see him so contained by these letters, titles, words.

One of his keepers rapped smartly on the door and after a moment a voice bade them to enter. As the door swung wide before him like a slowly turning page, Sendoh had the opportunity to look inside with astonishment. The room that was revealed was quite unlike anything he'd expected.

A warm sanctuary of golden wood polished until it sparkled in the sunlight. Rich leather chairs in deep red and homely panelling on the walls. There was carpet, thick and soft, and a simple but beautiful wooden folding screen across one corner, painted with delicate floating cranes, their wings tucked softly alongside their flowing forms. Shelves behind the desk were lined with books – autobiographies, fiction, poetry. A small room but nonetheless a place of great warmth. Sendoh's eyes moved like those of a starving man beholding a feast. For two years he'd seen nothing but the bare concrete and steel that closed him in. He felt as if stepping inside such a room would convert him somehow into a man again. That he would be a real person and no longer just a slave. The sensation was almost overwhelming.

From his seat behind the desk, Norio lifted his eyes and set down his pen. There was nothing elegant about the way Sendoh was forced into the chair opposite him, wrists swiftly handcuffed to each wooden arm as he was left to stare straight into the eyes of his fate.

The guards retreated from the room at Norio's nod, and the prison overseer continued to consider Sendoh with a thoughtful stare which caused uncomfortable twists in Sendoh's stomach. He recalled for a moment how sadistically this man tormented Kaede, but it was difficult to remember without the dark and oppressive prison bearing down on him. Indeed, in this comfortable room, such things seemed almost an impossibility. Besides, there was no malice in Norio's face now. No trace of what he had seemed before.

"Well…" he said finally, lifting a brow. "…Sendoh Akira."

Not knowing how to react to the utterance of his name, Sendoh said nothing.

Norio's silent scrutiny continued until Sendoh shifted his weight with discomfort. Somehow he was reminded of Kaede's stare. There passed after another slow minute of painful silence before Norio finally moved, rising from his seat and stepping towards the bookcase at his back. Sendoh watched nervously as the man took an easy grip of the wood and, with very little effort, pulled the whole thing so that the shelves slid aside, whisked along on caster wheels. Behind the poetry anthologies and world atlases was another bookshelf although this one was lined not with books but with files. Thick binders, carefully organised and categorised, each with a title printed neatly down the spine in marker pen, each a tiny pillar of data.

Sendoh flashed his eyes quickly over the titles in curiosity. _Brotherhood (The)_. _Blades (The). Cornnelly Courtelle. Culiter (Clan). _It didn't take him too long to realise they were the names of prison gangs. He didn't have time to look out for the _Yunta_ file however because Norio's attention had moved up to a higher shelf, and Sendoh followed his gaze. Another set of binders, upwards of twenty perhaps, and all of them, Sendoh saw, dedicated to just one gang. _The Numbers_.

Norio's finger trailed thoughtfully along the line. Sendoh watched him pass numerous files relating to "23s (The)", and "Tokyo Sect (The)", coming to rest finally on one binder – "28s (The) - leaders". This one he pulled out and opened casually.

"The twenty eights" he began like a professor embarking on a lecture, startling Sendoh somewhat with the sudden sound of his voice "were both the largest and the most influential of all the _Number_ sects. Fighters. Physically strong. Not exactly renowned for their intelligence perhaps, but their leader was a clever man. A hard man too, and at one point quite possibly the single most powerful person in this prison, prisoners and staff included."

Sendoh stared at him in silent puzzlement. While he was glad enough to hear anything about the Numbers, he couldn't help wishing to hear more about the twenty threes, more about _Kaede_, instead.

Norio looked up from the file and met his eyes coolly before adding: "His name was Liron Kai."

Sendoh looked blank. Norio put the file down on the table with a touch of impatience.

"Do you know that the Numbers operated a teacher-student system, where lesser members were apprenticed to senior ones? That they invented what you might call now the_rider _system?"

No, he didn't. He hadn't known that at all. And he was surprised, perhaps even disappointed, though he didn't let it show. Still he had already known that the Numbers had had riders. It wasn't exactly news.

"Let me tell you a little story" Norio began, seating himself again in his chair, "Five years ago the leader of the twenty threes, a man known as Stanley Q, broke jail. Something almost unheard of among the Numbers. He did it with the intention of founding an external group to support the gang, and he succeeded."

"The Tokyo Sect," Sendoh realised immediately.

"That is correct. But" Norio continued, "His absence left a hole at the top of the Numbers hierarchy that needed to be filled. And even though the twenty threes were the smallest of the sects, they were perhaps the most highly revered and so, being the arrogant man he was, Liron Kai decided that he wanted control of it." Norio waved a hand in an idle sweep. "Being so influential it was easy for him to push his own puppet into the role, and who easier to control from the shadows than the boy he played teacher to? His own little whore?"

Sendoh looked up to see Norio watching him closely, studying him for a reaction. He didn't let anything show. Kaede had been a rider – he had already known that – the fact that he had been partner to a very powerful gang leader well, that could be borne. His kept his face blank.

"As the only one of the six leaders considered to be a _woman_ I made the decision to keep Kaede Rukawa alive, thinking he'd be the easiest to break. In that, I made a mistake."

"Why are you telling me this?" Sendoh managed to demand somewhat nervously.

"I'm being frank with you, Sendoh Akira, because the truth is that you have something I want."

Sendoh's mouth felt dry, still he managed to part his lips to query – "what?" – in a voice rough and far from steady.

"Kaede Rukawa's attention."

Sendoh gripped the chair tightly with his hands. "I won't help you" he retorted immediately.

If Norio had been the kind of man to smile he might have done so now. He wasn't, so he didn't. He only raised one brow, although there was an air of satisfaction about him that left Sendoh feeling hopelessly predictable. Entirely second guessed.

_A snake_. He told himself. _This man is a snake._ Logical, reasonable, but maliciously self-serving. Honest and entirely untrustworthy.

"Are you a member of the Numbers gang, Sendoh Akira?"

Realising what was coming, he tried to harden himself, but he had no choice but to listen to this poisonous song. They'd handcuffed him to the chair after all. So as he sat he tried to put his faith in something. In Kogure's frankness, in Mitsui's fists, in a society formed by Numbers' laws, or in Kaede. Kaede. Fire and water Kaede and the whispered words he'd written onto Sendoh's soul.

Be thine own palace.

Yes he clutched at those words now, even though doing so only served to prove that he still didn't truly understand them.

Slowly, in response to Norio's question, he shook his head.

"Your former gang – _Yunta_, wasn't it? – you must realise that they will no longer welcome you now that you are rumoured to affiliate with the Numbers. You saw for yourself how the inmates reacted to that twenty five boy."

Sendoh said nothing.

"What a perilous position you've put yourself in."

He didn't need reminding of that. He knew it keenly already. Neither a Number nor a Yunta he was potentially without any protection whatsoever. He had little doubt that if Norio decided to send him back to the block alone, he wouldn't even last one night. Right now he was entirely dependant on Mitsui and Kaede's charity.

Still perhaps there was something. He couldn't help but cling to the belief that there was. It was a bond, something shared, something meaningful. There, in Kaede's stare, something in his frail voice, in the clammy and scarred flesh under Sendoh's soothing fingers. There had to be. Why else was he here, if not because of that boy? If not because, for some reason, Kaede had picked him out?

But Norio seemed to have read his mind. "Perhaps you think you are something special, something _more_. Perhaps you've convinced yourself that a leader of the Numbers – ruthless and powerful as he is – would give a shit about you." Norio's eyes were dark with warning. "You'd be wrong, of course." With one hand he removed something from the file on the desk before him, placing it on the table, eyes still fixed on Sendoh relentlessly. "Now I won't deny that Kaede Rukawa seems to see something in you. That he reacts to you where he's ignored all others. But as for the nature of his reasoning, I'm afraid it isn't to your credit in the slightest. It is simply buying you time, and even he will realise his mistake sooner or later."

Sendoh looked up and knew, at that instant, that he was a fish on a line. Norio had him on his knees. All those things he still didn't know, things he wasn't sure about, Norio wielded them so skilfully like an axe above his head. It was hard to try to ignore his words when he had nothing to counter them with. Hard. Too hard.

That faith he still struggled to hold felt like it was being ground out under churning wheels, the shape of it long since mangled beyond recognition. Everything changed. Around him, nothing stayed the same. What, then, was he to cling to?

Slowly, as if savouring victory, Norio pushed the photograph smoothly over the surface of the table. It slid as if on a cushion of air. Feeling something like dread in his gut, Sendoh looked down at it.

He saw a strong man with a youthful face that would have been handsome had it not been for his hard eyes. Black scrubby hair dropped in severe chops giving him a slightly wild, unkept look. Something feral. His expression was grim. Behind him were the unmistakeable bars of a holding cell and across the bottom of the picture a prisoner number had been stamped. Sendoh had never seen him before and yet… there was something of familiarity in his features.

He looked closer. The stranger's attitude seemed defiant and strong, he had the air of a hardened criminal and the cold blue eyes of a killer. And yet… the line of his jaw, the shape of his nose, the arch of his brow. Sendoh's heart thumped angrily against his ribs as the similarities became clearer and clearer to him. Looking at this man was almost like looking into a mirror. Their faces were strikingly similar. Yes, he realised with a creeping cold, this man could well have been his brother.

"_This_ is what Kaede Rukawa sees in you."

Sendoh paled. He looked up, but he didn't need to hear it. Not really. He already knew.

"Liron Kai," Norio continued, smirking, "was one of the most powerful and dangerous people in this prison. As his teacher he spent years protecting Kaede Rukawa. He's dead now, of course, executed along with the rest. You are – perhaps – lucky you bear some resemblance to him, but you are not Liron Kai. You are weak, and powerless. And the question you ought to be asking yourself is _how long will it take for Kaede to realise this_?"

Sendoh couldn't help but swallow in the face of Norio's cold confidence. Norio's smile only grew.

"The numbers are a dangerous gang. You have seen as much for yourself. I can protect you from them, and from those inmates who will hunt you down for your association with them. I can protect you. All I ask from you is a little of your cooperation. That's not so unreasonable, is it?"

Sendoh stared into Norio's cold eyes, and felt his stomach twist itself into tight knots.

He had no idea, no idea at all, what to say.

* * *

><p>"That isn't Liron Kai" Tsuki Matadori said, looking down at the picture curiously.<p>

Norio swirled the tea around his cup thoughtfully.

The politician looked up at him. "You tricked him."

With a soft purse of his lips Norio blew the shimmering steam away from the surface of the cup.

"This means you still don't know why the twenty three reacts to him."

Norio carefully set the cup down again. "This way" he said, "it won't matter."

Tsuki leaned forward seriously. "But what if there is something? What if he is more than he appears?"

Norio scoffed and said nothing.

With a crease of his brow, Tsuki picked up his own cup and considered the steaming contents for a moment. "I'm serious. What if the twenty three really sees something in him?"

"Kaede Rukawa is mad" Norio replied with a snap. "He feels nothing. He _sees_ _nothing. _That Sendoh boy will cooperate because he has no other choice if he wants to survive. They're dogs. All of them. All they can ever do is _survive_." He leant back, disdain clear on his face.

There was a moment of quiet.

"The Numbers…" Tsuki began slyly, looking over the rim of his cup, "…weren't like that."

Norio didn't react, but Tsuki grinned. "Sometimes I wonder if you didn't actually admire them for what they built, even as you tore it down."

Norio met his eyes. "The beauty of the thing is in its destruction" he said coolly.

"Is that right?" Tsuki smiled and shrugged before sipping carefully at his steaming tea. Norio watched him a moment longer before doing the same.

~tbc

ANs: Sorry for my slowness. I really suck. Thanks so much for your support and reviews :D x


	11. Chapter 11

**IttyBittyTidbits:**Hey hun ^^ Thanks for another review! You're right, and I do want to try and show how the gangs became so powerful within the prison, especially the numbers and dearest Liron (haha). I'll do my best, though it's hard to find space for a lot of background/history when your protagonist doesn't know _anything_, and your deuteragonist barely says more than four words together lol damn.

**Anita:**Thank you dear! I'm glad to add a touch of excitement to your week haha. I try my best to update weekly but it never seems to work out. The scenario is so much more intricate than with _Boy__'__s __Paradise_, and the style much more specific, it takes me so much longer! Boo!

But hey I'm really glad you think that (about Kaede being in the scene even when he's not). I kind of want to make him out like he is a part of the prison, and the prison is a part of him. In a way it's as if he were haunting it. Not in an obvious ghost-story kind of way but you know… just a little suggestion of that ^.^ Heehee.

**Thine Own Palace**

**Chapter 11**

The darkness that fell on the four prisoners that night was not the half-dark of city lights and stars. It was solid, like a wall, closing around them like their own lonely coffins.

Sendoh lay on his back, eyes open and staring upwards but seeing nothing, his mind running in circles.

_Liron __Kai_…

Somebody else. Not just anybody either. Really _somebody._ Somebody dangerous. Capable. And with strength enough to master someone like Kaede.

Sendoh's eyes slid to the side to where he knew that boy was curled up and sleeping just ten feet away, but unable to make him out in the dark. He couldn't fathom it. What kind of person had _Liron__Kai_ been? And how could he ever hope to compare? That man – that phantom leader of the twenty eights – mocked him from the shadows of his mind. It was utter torment. Knives wouldn't have agonised him as much as this. His own inadequacy threatened to choke him.

_Liron __Kai_ would never have been raped, he thought bitterly, curling his lip unseen in the darkness. _Liron __Kai_ would never have surrendered, sucked cock, been turned, _ridden_. Not like Sendoh, who'd done all those things. No matter how he looked at it, he always fell short. He felt like nothing. He felt like no one.

And Kaede. Kaede. Kaede who looked at him now and imagined him to be strong. Imagined, perhaps, that Sendoh could protect him, save him, as Liron Kai no doubt would have done. Yes, to Kaede he was destined to be nothing but a terrible disappointment. The thought made Sendoh feel sick to his stomach.

He'd thought. He'd _hoped_. He'd so foolishly allowed himself to begin to believe that there had been something. That _he_ had been something to that boy. And now he was paying for it, truly.

How long would it be before Kaede realised his mistake? Realised that Sendoh wasn't the person he had thought he was?

Would he kill Sendoh outright, just like the unfortunate men in the dining hall - a swift snap of his hands, the noise of bones popping and then nothing? Or would he abandon Sendoh to a much more painful fate at the mercy the rest of the prison's population?

And where, now, could he turn? Who would protect him? How had he ended up so wrenchingly alone, precisely that which he had most desperately wanted to avoid?

Now there was no one. No one to help him. No one to –

_Take some time to consider your position. We'll talk again soon._

He ground his teeth in distress. _Norio._

He knew it was a trap, a ruse, he knew that. But from where he sat now in the damp and the dark with three wolves ready to turn on him, he couldn't see any other options. And if Norio could offer protection – a transfer perhaps to another block – then perhaps there would be a way for him to survive this.

But what would be the price of such a thing? What would Norio demand of him? Would he really be prepared to trample over everything Kaede had endured? Spit in the face of his suffering?

Alone, there, in the dark, it was frighteningly tempting.

He hugged his knees and shivered with the cold.

He lay awake for a long time, eyes open against the black night, chasing demons around his mind until he became aware of a soft noise – ragged and uneven breathes of misery, quiet in the still night time. He lifted his head. It seemed he wasn't the only one mourning his fate this night.

After listening for a moment longer he rolled silently over onto his knees and crawled in the direction of the sounds, soon coming up against the bars of his cell. He pressed his face against them. He could just about make out the vertical lines of the bars on the opposite side of the walkway, but within the cell beyond them there was only the blackness.

"Kogure?" he asked the dark tentatively.

The noises were abruptly silenced, but there was no other response.

"Are you all right?" Sendoh continued in concern.

The quiet persisted until there came a soft rustle of clothes and then, hesitantly, the trembling figure of Kogure came into view. He crawled, as Sendoh had, close to the bars of his cell and looked across the walkway. The darkness seemed as solid as bricks, like a cave cocoon around them, and it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

"I…" Kogure stammered uncertainly, voice wavering as if he couldn't understand it himself. "I should be dead."

Sendoh's brows furrowed slightly. He reminded himself that Kogure hadn't spoken since he'd come round after collapsing at Mitsui's feet in the midst of the fight earlier in the day, and he was probably still confused and afraid.

"It's okay" Sendoh replied as convincingly as he could manage, "you're safe now." As if there was such a thing as _safe _in this godforsaken place.

But Kogure shook his head resolutely. "No. No, you don't understand." His hands slipped down the bars, eyes settling upon the floor. "I should be dead" he repeated with more conviction.

This time, Sendoh realised, his words held quite a different meaning.

He shook his head in refute but didn't know what to say. What had Kogure even done? What had being a member of the _numbers_ involved? Why had the inmates reacted so violently to finding one in their midst? It occurred to him that the gang must have done some awful things to earn the reputation they had, but he had no idea where Kogure fitted into that.

Had he deserved such a terrible death after all?

Kogure was gnawing at his lips. "Have you ever seen that kind of mob before?" he asked quietly after a moment.

Sendoh shook his head. _And __I__'__m __in __no __hurry __to __see __another __one_. _Especially __not __my __own._

"Well I have." Kogure replied shortly. "Dozens of them."

Sendoh was surprised. Kogure looked up and over at him, a slight bitterness twisting his lips into an unhappy curl.

"Back when the _numbers_ first fell, it happened almost every week. And I… I… I _watched_."

"Watched?" Sendoh echoed blankly.

"Yes. Watched. Watched them die. People who were supposed to be my friends. People who had protected me. I stood and watched them die and I did nothing. Because I was too scared. Because I didn't want to die too."

He was clearly distressed. Sendoh wanted to say something in comfort but… what? His mouth was all but hanging open.

"And you know," Kogure continued bitterly, "I always saw them and… they were always looking around. Looking confused. Like they couldn't understand why nobody stepped forward to save them. Why nobody spoke out. And nobody ever did. Nobody."

"Mitsui" Sendoh tried to counter, though it was suddenly hard to speak with his throat tight and painful, "Mitsui stepped forward for you."

Kogure seemed to deflate further, pulling back from the bars as if they hurt him. "Mitsui was my student" he explained in a harsh whisper. "I was his teacher, his senior… but I… today I… if it had been him instead of me… I think… I'm afraid I wouldn't have…"

"You would've" Sendoh interrupted him firmly. "I know you would."

Kogure only gave him an unhappy stare, and Sendoh tried to respond with a smile of reassurance. "No one knows how strong they really are until it is truly demanded of them" he pointed out with all the wisdom of the ages. He felt his gut churn at the sound of his own advice. How easy it was to give to others, but how hard to believe in for himself. Strong? What a joke.

Kogure was silent for a long time. Finally he looked away and gave a confused mumble of thanks. No longer distressed but still bubbling with so many uncertainties Kogure withdrew quietly from the cellside and retreated dazedly back into the darkness, leaving Sendoh once again alone.

Sendoh leaned his forehead against the bars and sighed tiredly, closing his eyes in exhaustion. He had to make a decision. He couldn't cope with this torment. He had to decide whether or not what Norio was offering was worth the danger involved in… betraying Kaede.

How pathetic he was, he mused unhappily, to have the gall to tell Kogure to believe in his strength when he himself was so sorely tempted by the easier path. How desperate he was to get away from this situation. How it appalled him, his own weakness, but he couldn't deny nor escape it. It was like a devil constantly tugging at his mind.

To survive… he had to sacrifice others. That was how it was. That was how it _always_ was.

In misery he shook his head and drew back from the bars. Turning his head unhappily he lifted his eyes only to immediately fall back in surprise at the sight of that familiar face so unexpectedly nearby.

"Shit-!" he gasped as if he'd just seen a ghost, clutching a hand to his chest in shock.

Kaede was sitting cross-legged, puddled in the inky blackness not three feet away, watching him.

Sendoh straightened himself self-consciously, his face pale. "You… you startled me" he explained feebly, feeling jittery and guilty. Kaede tilted his head slightly but did nothing more. Sendoh was irrationally seized with the conviction that the boy must have been able to read all his treacherous thoughts from a moment ago. He forced himself to let out his breath in a long stream in an effort to calm his nerves.

Kaede leaned forward slightly, watching Sendoh carefully in the gloom. Under his stare Sendoh swallowed unhappily. What was he seeing? _Who_ was he seeing?

Lifting one hand, each of his fingers twisted and bent where they had broken and healed, Kaede gestured him closer. Feeling nervous with fear and yet fluttering with inexcusable anticipation Sendoh moved as indicated. Closer. And closer. Until he touched his hot palms against rusty bars and knew that he could reach out and once again touch that strength with his own hands, if only he had the courage to do so.

But he didn't. He didn't dare.

Kaede remained where he was and said nothing. After a moment Sendoh too settled himself down, crouched on his knees and looking between the metal strips at his unexpected companion. There was silence.

They sat together, close, quiet and thoughtful, each with his own troubles. Each looking at the other and seeing… something. More than once Sendoh tried to work up the courage to ask something, to initiate some kind of conversation, only to open his mouth and immediately close it again foolishly. All his questions were either too light, or far, far too dangerous.

But he felt it. Again. Like there was something between them. It unsettled him. He tried to tell himself that it wasn't real, that it was illusion, this shared existence, but still he was sucked into it – Kaede's eyes, his quiet breath, his motionless presence. The simple fact that he had chosen to come and sit beside him, to take some comfort from the wall of Sendoh's cell. He almost felt uniquely honoured, just by that. And it felt real. It felt so, so real. _Why?_

_It __isn__'__t __me __that __he __wants. _He told himself sternly. _It __isn__'__t __me __that __he __sees._With a sigh he closed his eyes regretfully, trying to order his thoughts.

"Kaede" he blurted all at once. He had to break this. He had to shatter it before the illusion took him over completely. Kaede lifted his head serenely in query. Sendoh took a brave breath. "Tell me about Liron Kai" he demanded shortly.

It felt like he'd pulled a trigger. He wanted to wince and close his eyes and wait for some kind of fallout to come tumbling around him.

There was silence except for his own nervous breathing.

Kaede hadn't moved, though his eyes had widened slightly. Sendoh forced himself to meet his stare, wanting to drive it home. To make him understand: _I__'__m __not __him_.

But even as he stared, Kaede Rukawa looked smaller all of a sudden. To Sendoh's eyes he suddenly looked like a boy who'd seen nothing but blackness and agony and the borders of madness for as long as he could remember. Not that enduring strength, but a weak and fragile thing that was as human and as breakable as the next person.

And within those brief seconds Sendoh regretted what he had done. But he couldn't take it back. He'd taken his swipe. He'd trespassed so carelessly on that tiny opening of soul that Kaede had entrusted him with.

And Kaede moved back, almost nervously, retreating from Sendoh as if he'd changed in that moment from comfort to thorns. As if he'd never trust anything else ever again.

"Wait…" Sendoh immediately spoke, feeling panicked, reaching his hand through the bars to implore him. "I didn't mean… I just… I just want to know a little. Don't be angry, please. Kaede don't… don't…"

…_don't?_

…_don't what?_

"…don't leave me."

Kaede paused where he had retreated at the very edge of the dark, almost lost in the night time around him, only the vague suggestion of his outline still visible to Sendoh's now straining eyes.

Sendoh's outstretched hand was shaking fiercely even as he dropped it to the floor of Kaede's cell, to where the boy had been sitting just a moment ago. He couldn't even make out the features of Kaede's face any more. There was an expectant silence.

Sendoh came slowly to realise that Kaede was waiting for him to speak.

"Norio said that you… uhm… knew him." He said nervously, carefully avoiding repeating the name again.

Kaede didn't reply, but he didn't move further away either. Sendoh tried to steel himself. Speaking into the blackness like this made him feel hopelessly uncomfortable, as if there were some kind of wall or barrier between them so much more substantial than the ever-present bars. "What…" he stammered nervously, "what was he like?"

There was as usual no response. Sendoh frowned, waiting unhappily. He couldn't rationalise his new and gnawing obsession with his predecessor, but he couldn't ignore it either. He'd been comparing himself to that imaginary man all evening and all night. The opponent he'd built up in his mind was certainly formidable. One man who had sat in this prison like a king on his throne. How could anyone have been that powerful? That _strong_? How fiercely Sendoh wished he could be like him. How desperate he was to meet Kaede's expectations of him.

"Hard."

His head snapped up. He knew that he should no longer be so very surprised to hear Kaede speak, but he was always astonished by it nonetheless. The rough, whispered texture of his voice. The quiet sound of his breath. So rare and so precious.

"Hard and… cruel."

Sendoh blinked. Kaede did not move from where he sat still some distance away.

"But… Norio said you were his… partner." _Partner_. What a marvellously ambiguous word. How many things it could mean. How many sins it could hide.

Kaede seemed to realise it too. "His partner?" he echoed with a cool edge of bitterness in his voice that Sendoh had never heard before. "No. More like his slave."

Sendoh leaned forward, wanting to ask more, desperate to catch a glimpse of Kaede's face at that moment, hearing for the first time a bubbling of emotion in his voice. But it seemed Kaede was no longer in the mood to humour his curiosity.

There came the quiet rustle of clothes as the boy moved back once again, this time disappearing fully into the darkness. Sendoh listened to him retreat as far away as the other side of the cell and then there was nothing but the silence returned with an intensity even greater than before.

Sendoh rubbed his hands over his face as if trying to wake himself up.

Nothing he did seemed to relieve the unexpected fluttering in his chest. He couldn't even drag himself away from the bars just in case Kaede came back. Instead he simply lay down where he was, staring unseeing into Kaede's cell and realising how wrong he'd been.

He could never have sold him out to Norio. Never.

_I __have __to __do __something._ He realised, heart beating hard in the darkness. _For __him. __I __have __to __get __him __out __of __here. __Somehow._

He closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath, realising finally that that was the only thing that had ever, ever been true.

~tbc

ANs: I love playing with the difference between Sendoh's self-inflicted illusions and his actual self :D Thinks one thing and does another, silly boy.


	12. Chapter 12

I'm so sorry for the delay! Family and new job and stuff all got in the way. Sorry, sorry! Hope you are all well and had a good summer!

**Darkhooded Angel**: Lawwwwl, "Hard" Liron. I love it! Hahaha! I'm glad the pace and character developments are going okay – I'll try and keep it up :)

**Addicted to SD**: Thanks for your review! Yup yup, more numbers info in this chapter – please enjoy! Hope you are doing well ^.^

**Anita**: Hey hun! Hmm it's very interesting what you said… actually I don't think Sendoh is really "changing" as such. I think of him more as coming back to his "real self", or something like that anyway.  
>As for Rukawa's POV… since Sendoh is our narrator I guess Rukawa's inner thoughts will have to be shown through his actions and words ("<em>what action and what words! He never saysdoes anything!_") Yeah, it'll be a bit tricky to pull off ahaha. I'll keep your suggestion in mind!

**Tidbits**: Action-less-action – yikes! I guess a little is okay, but a little bit of actiony-action would be nice too, right? Unluckily this is a bit of an explain-y chapter, I'll make extra effort to put some more spark into the next one!

**Reodavle**: Hey hun – numbers details for you ~ wish granted! :D I'm trying to fuse together images of badass Liron Kai and Coach Buddha Anzai in my head but…. eugh…. nhh…. grrrrr…. just can't do it lol!  
>What is Kaede protecting? – best question yet! ~ I wonder…. :D<p>

**Thine Own Palace  
>Chapter 12<strong>

It hadn't really occurred to Sendoh to wonder what would happen upon his return to the main block. To be honest he'd probably avoided the thought on purpose. What, after all, could he possibly do? What reception could he expect except a violently hostile one? No, for all intents and purposes it was probably better not to think at all.

Instead he had thrown all his thoughts forward, to the future, dreaming up endless schemes and plans and clever trickery only to discard each as wishful impossibilities in turn. There had to be a way to help Kaede, he just didn't know what it was yet.

It was for that reason that the matter of the large, fighting redhead Sendoh shared his cell with had not seemed of much consequence right up until the moment that the guards pulled the door open and flung him back inside with that particular colossus. Sendoh and Sakuragi had never spoken much and that, at least, remained consistent now as Sendoh's hearty welcome home was expressed not with words but with what felt like the one ton weight of a fist in his cheek.

Indeed, it seemed that no sooner had his feet touched the floor of the cell than the rest of his body was knocked down to it too.

"Fuck" he managed to gasp before the rest of Sakuragi's considerable mass was hauling him up by the collar and shaking him to and fro furiously.

"You lying shit" Sakuragi hissed angrily into his face, flecks of spit flying. "I'll fucking kill you."

Sendoh was entirely helpless as he flew briefly through the air of their narrow cell, thrown aside as if he weighed nothing at all, winded as he hit the wall. He felt the warm stickiness of thick blood leaking down the side of his face. The two of them were of similar size and stature, but Sakuragi's strength was nothing short of monstrous. Sendoh lifted his arms defensively as Sakuragi reached down to grab him again, and it took all his effort just to part his lips and gasp desperately; "I'm not a number!"

Sakuragi dragged him to his feet by the throat and glared menacingly into his face. "Do you think I'm stupid?" he demanded.

Sendoh tried to prise Sakuragi's fists from his neck. "I've only been inside for two years" he protested, struggling with his short breaths "how could I be?"

To his momentous relief Sakuragi seemed to hesitate, thinking this over, his brown eyes taking in Sendoh's hurt but earnest expression uncertainly. "What were you doing then?" he demanded finally, wary confusion in his voice, "Why did you go with them?"

Sendoh gestured weakly at Sakuragi's fists which were threatening to cut off his air supply, and Sakuragi released him. Sendoh winced and rubbed at his throat, gratefully filling his lungs with air.

Sakuragi still stood menacingly close beside him. "Start talking" he growled threateningly.

"Mitsui…" Sendoh explained raspily, "…Mitsui dragged me into it." He looked up at Sakuragi earnestly. "I thought us _yunta _ought to help that rider. I didn't really know what the _numbers_ were. To be honest I still don't get it now."

Sakuragi's expression changed quickly into appalled disbelief. "Are you fucking kidding me? How stupid can you be?" He threw his hands up in disgust and turned away. "You're in some fucking serious shit."

"Yeah," Sendoh agreed, relieved that Sakuragi's hostility seemed to have evaporated. He touched his head tentatively, and his hand came away red with blood, "I figured."

Sakuragi sat down on the edge of the lower bunk and watched him bad-temperedly.

Sendoh waited a few minutes, leaning back weakly against the concrete wall, recovering his breath, before hazarding a question. "The _numbers_" he began, a little warily, "are just a gang, right? What's the big deal over it?"

Sakuragi huffed and looked away. "You wouldn't get it."

Sendoh hardened his jaw and stared at him determinedly. "If I'm in this shit, don't I get to know how deep?"

Sakuragi glanced over at his stubborn expression, pursed his lips and reluctantly spoke. "No, they weren't _just a gang_" he explained scathing, as if unable to believe Sendoh wasn't already aware of such common facts, "_Just a gang_ is fifteen guys. Twenty guys. The _numbers_ were huge. They had members in every block. Even in different prisons. Fuck, they didn't even know each other, they were that big. It was run like a fucking army too; the guys at the top gave orders and the guys at the bottom did as they were told. Anything the prison did to contain them, they always found a way around. Whatever they wanted, they got. They could open any lock, bribe any guard, smuggle in anything they needed. There wasn't a single part of the prison that they couldn't control."

Sendoh found it surprisingly easy to imagine. He had already known, after all, that the _numbers_ had recruited for skills other than just fighting strength. With enough resourceful members working together under firm leadership, it would have been possible to control the environment much more effectively than anything the current fragmented gangs could manage.

"But why didn't you join them back then? I mean…" Sendoh gestured to Sakuragi approvingly, "…you can fight good. Didn't they want you?"

Sakuragi gave a cold laugh. "What you gotta know about the _numbers_" he said, "is that because they were so _big_ they had a whole load of _rules_. Lots of _laws_ and _rituals_ and shit. They had to, or the whole fucking thing would fall apart. The whole gang was a _system_. To enforce it they had these guys they called _judges, _and I'm telling you they didn't fuck around. If someone put a toe out of line, didn't do as they were told, broke the _rules_, there was blood to be paid. They didn't make no bones about killing their own either. It was nasty."

Sendoh nodded silently, and Sakuragi continued.

"As it was, when they checked new guys, it wasn't a fight. It was a kill."

"A kill?" Sendoh queried in confusion.

"Yeah" Sakuragi nodded but grimaced as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. "They'd tell you who to go for – another prisoner, perhaps even a guard - and if you had enough guts in you, you'd do it. And if you couldn't, or wouldn't, then you were out… or worse."

"But… I thought not all the _numbers_ were fighters?" Sendoh refuted, "The… the twenty fives…" he thought of Kogure "…and the other sects? They couldn't do something like that."

"Oh, you don't need to be able to _fight_ to kill someone" Sakuragi commented coolly. "You just had to be stupid or fucked up enough to do it. They'd even help you if you needed it. They'd hold the unlucky fucker down for you. All you had to do was shove a shank into their throat and you were done."

Sendoh tried to move his mouth but no sound came out.

"They wanted me to kill my cell mate" Sakuragi looked closely at Sendoh for a long, tense moment. "I refused."

Sendoh couldn't help but swallow under Sakuragi's stare, not failing to catch the threat in his words.

"You ask me why everyone hates the _numbers_ so much." Sakuragi continued coldly, "I'm telling you – they killed more prisoners, more guards, more of their own members than you can imagine. They were _butchers_. Didn't a single day go by without someone left bleeding and dying in the middle of the fucking dining hall. It was fucking sick."

Sendoh thought of Mitsui and Kogure. Had they done such a thing? Had they killed simply to earn the right to join a gang? He remembered Kogure's guilty depression three nights back and with a sick feeling in his gut finally thought he understood it.

He bit his lip. He reminded himself that it natural in this place to survive by sacrificing others. Wasn't that what _be thine own palace_ had meant too?

Then he shook his head fiercely. That was exactly what he had wanted to change, or at least escape. It seemed now that the _numbers_ were nothing but an earlier, fouler and more organised form of the systems they had even now. That continual terror, continual fear, continual necessity of fighting, beating, raping, being part of a gang simply to protect yourself. Looking out only for yourself, and trampling on others in the effort to survive.

He screwed his eyes closed tight, forgetting completely about Sakuragi nearby, lost in his own whirlwind. All the things he'd assumed. How he'd summoned up the courage to finally strive, now to be pulled up short. They weren't… what he had hoped. They weren't an _answer_.

He'd wanted to learn. Learn from Kaede's deep eyes, from his silent lips. Perhaps, he realised unhappily, that wouldn't be possible after all.

But as his thoughts turned to Kaede, Sendoh opened his eyes. It was as if his own notions had blinded him, shaken him awake.

It rose in him once again, flashing and fierce; something that defied logic, reason, sense. It was bizarre how strongly he felt; how easily Kaede overtook him. Even as he learned more about what the _numbers_ had been, what they had done, somehow he couldn't bring himself to think of that silent, tortured soul as anything less than before. If he'd only been enslaved – and he'd said that much himself – by the machine of the gang, just as Sendoh was now, just as _all_ of them were, it didn't lessen him. He would always be something more. Something… strangely wonderful. Even trapped in a society none of them could escape or even influence, he was still nothing less than the fierce ocean, beating against the rocks of Sendoh's stone soul.

And so there was still… hope.

Not something lofty. Not a higher cause. Perhaps there really was no way to ever salvage the hellish system of prison society, but still there was hope for _him_. For the boy trapped in the darkness. And, perhaps, even for Sendoh himself, who wanted nothing more than to stand under his gaze as if staring down the sun.

And if he needed to use or destroy the tattered remains of the _numbers_ in order to do it, he was prepared for that.

And then a thought struck him.

"Sakuragi" he said abruptly. "The _judges_, you said before. Do you know any more about them?"

Sakuragi pondered the abrupt query, but nonetheless obliged Sendoh's curiosity. "They were one of the sects. Like… managers, I suppose. They organised things. Made the gang _work_. And they enforced the rules, of course. Delivered the punishments too. They had a lot of power, when it came down to it. They could control things, you see, to an extent."

_The smallest but most highly revered of all the sects._

"The twenty threes" Sendoh said in a low voice, feeling the fine hairs rise on his arms. _Judges_.

Sakuragi lifted one brow. "Right" he confirmed.

* * *

><p>"You want to do <em>what?<em>"

Sendoh looked up at the appalled Mitsui and frowned. "I want to contact the Tokyo Sect" he repeated.

Mitsui gaped for a second before shaking his head in disbelief. Kogure, leaning against the wall beside him looked equally blank. Sendoh sighed and glanced around out of nervous habit. The three of them were alone in a quiet corner of a corridor. The place was deserted, it was dinner time, but the three of them had no intention of walking into the wasp's nest of a dining hall. They hadn't eaten in five days, but it didn't look as if they'd be having another meal any time soon.

Even the fiercely proud Mitsui had been forced to admit that it was probably necessary for them to hide, at least for the moment. He looked much the same as usual, crouched casually on his haunches – it was obvious his cell mate hadn't been up to the task of confronting him as Sakuragi had with Sendoh. The much slighter Kogure, on the other hand, had sustained a fresh crop of injuries, although nothing he seemed to consider significant.

The three of them had spent the last five unhappy days in Kaede's company. On only two occasions had Norio appeared, arriving in the dark and playing out his whims on Kaede's body like a grotesque pantomime. Sendoh hadn't been sick only because there had been nothing in his stomach. Even Mitsui had seemed thoroughly shaken by it and yet despite witnessing the torture he'd remained adamant that Kaede couldn't possibly be one of the six leaders.

The cause hadn't been helped when, in curiosity, Mitsui had attempted to talk to Kaede, asking him to verify himself, to _explain_. True to his nature, the boy hadn't spoken a word. Hadn't honoured Mitsui's request to see his tattoo. Didn't seem to have been aware of a single thing Mitsui had been saying. Mitsui had taken the silence as a personal slight and Sendoh had spent the days watching him become increasingly frustrated, attempting to argue reason against Kaede's silence, descending finally into crude insults. But despite Mitsui's fiercest threats and tantrums Kaede had remained, as always, far beyond reach.

Sendoh lifted his eyes now and looked again at Mitsui, this born-again warrior. Despite the severity of their situation he still had cool arrogance in his stare and in the tilt of his head. There was little doubt that when the challenge finally came, Mitsui would be there fighting to match it. He'd rolled up his sleeves, Sendoh noticed, and the black stain of his tattoo blazed angrily out of his skin like a warning.

Sendoh, in contrast to Mitsui, as someone who'd climbed his way up hand over hand from the very pits of prison society, couldn't help feeling constantly uneasy, a continued nervousness, as if enemies were waiting and watching from every corner. He shivered involuntarily.

Still, he reminded himself, foremost in his mind was Kaede. He was determined that it would be Kaede. He told himself sternly that he could no longer afford to spend every moment paranoid over his own safety now he had finally determined on a course of action. Habits, however, were not easy to break, though he did his best.

So he resisted the urge to look over his shoulder and asked again: "Isn't it possible to reach them?"

Mitsui gave him another incredulous look, subconsciously pressing his open palm comfortingly against his empty stomach. "How the hell should I know?" he responded irritably, and tossed his head towards Kogure.

Sendoh refocused his eyes instead on the self-professed smuggler of the numbers expectantly.

Kogure looked nervous. "Well you see" he said quietly, placatingly, as if Sendoh might get angry with him, "all the old communication lines were broken a long time ago. I don't even know where the sect is anymore. I've got contacts outside I could use, if it's still possible to even get messages out, but I wouldn't know where or how to find Stanley's boys." He smiled in nervous apology.

"What the hell do you want with them anyway?" Mitsui asked, fixing Sendoh with an accusing stare. "Gonna ask to join the gang or something?" He gave a derisive laugh as if that were highly amusing.

"Well…" Sendoh shifted his weight slightly, "…the sect are supposed to support the numbers, right? So then why didn't they help you out when… you know… when the gang fell?"

Mitsui snorted in disdain. "What the hell do you think they should have done? Norio cut the head off the whole damn snake. The whole bloody system fell apart, it was _chaos_. Besides, why would they give a fuck about a bunch of stragglers like us?"

"Perhaps not you…" Sendoh admitted quietly, lowering his voice and leaning meaningfully towards them both, "…but what about Kaede?"

Mitsui threw his hands up in disgust. "Come off it, you don't still seriously believe that he's one of the six, do you? I told you, they're _all dead_. If they weren't, do you think we'd be having to put up with all this bullshit? We'd still be fucking kings of this shit hole."

"But Norio…"

"_Fuck_ Norio" Mitsui snapped furiously. "As far as I'm concerned, if that silent bastard doesn't even know the lowest codes then he's _not_ even a _number_. He's just a seriously unlucky guy with a tattoo"

Sendoh looked over at Kogure for support, but the boy just shrugged. "The _numbers_ used different sets of codes to identify each other" he said softly. "It's just basic stuff. Without even the most simple verification, I don't see how we can possibly believe him to be anything."

"Maybe he doesn't want to risk saying anything in front of Norio" Sendoh pointed out.

"I expect Norio broke most of the internal codes a long time ago" Kogure replied with a regretful sigh, "He probably knows more about the _numbers_ than we do. It seems the only codes he still needs are for the Tokyo Sect."

"But that's my point" Sendoh continued, leaning forward, "if the sect found out that their security depended on how long Kaede can hold out under torture, wouldn't they be forced to do _something_?"

"Even if he really is one of the six, which he's not, why haven't they done anything before?" Mitsui snapped.

"Because they think he's dead, same as you" Sendoh replied coolly.

"None of this changes the fact that we don't know how to contact the sect _anyway_" Kogure pointed out.

Sendoh leaned forwards, planting his elbow firmly on his knees where he crouched. "_We_ don't. But Norio probably does. You said it yourself; he knows more about the _numbers_ than we do."

Mitsui rolled his eyes. "Oh, that's just _great_. Why don't you go and _ask_ him?"

"He has a huge number of files in his office" Sendoh continued seriously, lowering his voice to nothing more than a whisper. "If we can get in, we could find proof that Kaede is the leader of the twenty threes _and_ find out how the Tokyo Sect can be contacted."

Silence greeted this suggestion. The two men on the opposite side of the empty corridor only gaped at him in horror.

"You want to break into Norio's office?" Mitsui demanded after a moment, his voice also low. "Are you even _aware_ that this is a fucking _prison_?"

Sendoh shrugged. "Aren't you _numbers_? I heard this kind of thing was just routine for you."

"_Numbers_?" Mitsui glowered in annoyance. "What _numbers_? All I see is one twenty five, one twenty eight, and some crazy guy tagging along spouting stupid ideas. So _yes_ even if the _numbers_ could have done something that stupid, the three of us still fucking can't."

"If only we had some more people…" Kogure said thoughtfully, looking wistful.

Sendoh looked over at him, slightly deflated but not yet ready to give up. It had been an idle hope that Kogure and Mitsui might have known some method to move through the prison as easily as the _numbers_ had done before. He tried to think. There had to be some method they could use.

Kogure suddenly sat up straighter. "What about _The Kings_?" he suggested.

Sendoh looked up hopefully, but Mitsui scoffed in immediate derision. "Maki won't talk to us" he scorned. "Especially not now we've come out in this blaze of glory."

"Who are _The Kings_?" Sendoh queried anyway, leaning forwards.

Kogure looked over at him. "It's a gang run by another ex-number. We knew him back when we were in Block B together, although he keeps quiet about the past now, of course."

"He's a twenty eight so it doesn't help us anyway" Mitsui pointed out, folding his arms. "What we need is a twenty seven."

"But maybe he knows others…" Kogure hazarded uncertainly. Mitsui looked highly sceptical.

"Where could we find him?" Sendoh asked earnestly, his eyes suddenly bright. They both looked over at him.

"They have a territory over in the third wing" Kogure replied, "They don't usually go to the dining hall."

It was something.

Sendoh allowed himself a moment to close his eyes. He recalled Kaede's steady gaze and his quiet, rough voice. The way he sat so unassumingly and yet oddly comforting with his undemanding presence. He tried to hold in his mind a vision of what the past Kaede had been, and perhaps what kind of creature the future Kaede would make, free from pain.

He breathed deeply.

"Let's go pay them a visit," he said finally, confidently, opening his eyes again and standing up briskly. Then, slowly, a little awkwardly, as if testing out a long-forgotten skill, he relaxed his face, feeling his muscles twitch slightly as they assumed an almost nostalgically familiar expression.

They stared up at him, thunderstruck.

He was grinning.

~tbc

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><p>I've just finished reading Stephanie Meyer's <em>Twilight<em>. It was rubbish. Thoughts?


	13. Chapter 13

**Tidbits: **Uh oh – here's your chapter. Don't hate me for this xD

**Addicted to SD**: Hi hi, thanks again! Yup, this is my first time writing about the Kainan characters (nervous!) No Kaede in this chapter ._. but he'll be in the next one :D

**Anita**: Hey! Wow it actually took you a week to write a review (instead of your usual one day lol!) I was actually worried about you xD Relieved that you're still around lol. If Sendoh was a number…? Hmmm hard to say since I haven't explained what all of the groups did yet heeheehee.

**narcoleptic86: **Hi! Thanks for joining us! Glad you're enjoying the story :) My updates are kinda slow (sorry ._.)… but I'll definitely get this finished! :D (I'm so SD obsessed…..lol)

* * *

><p><em>This chapter is for IttyBittyTidbits. For the Kainan-inspiration; for not being into "yaoi"; and for reading it anyway.<em>

**Thine Own Palace  
>Chapter 13<strong>

"Well?"

Norio leaned back in his chair, letting his fingers twist thoughtfully into the spiral wire of the telephone. The office was empty and quiet around him, and Tsuki was waiting impatiently on the other end of the line. Norio looked up at the ceiling and let out his breath in a gentle puff.

"Nothing" he responded after a moment.

He removed the handset from his ear just as the expected outburst reached him.

"You wasted five whole days and there's nothing to show for it?" Tsuki demanded, incensed.

"It needs more time" Norio responded coolly.

"More _time_? Time for _what_?"

Norio leaned forward in his seat, flickering irritation visible on his brow. "More time to weaken him" he explained into the phone with restrained patience. "More time for him to _trust_. More time to make him _hope_."

"I don't _have_ time to waste tip-toeing around his fucking hopes and dreams or whatever the fuck you're bullshitting me with. You don't even know whether that Sendoh kid is really the catalyst or not."

"Then what do _you_ propose to do?" Norio growled back, frustration finally noticeable in his voice. "Violence obviously won't break him. Shame, isolation, starvation: none of it works. That boy is the only key we've got."

"Then push it forwards. Test this _bond_ you're so determined to believe in. See what he does."

Norio ground his teeth in annoyance. "It's still too early. If we push this, we might lose him entirely. The twenty-three is not a fool. He will know what we're trying to do."

"Good" Tsuki responded shortly. "It wouldn't be a test if he didn't. Get it done."

Norio squeezed the edge of the desk fiercely with one hand and opened his mouth to protest, but the line had already gone dead. He blinked, trying to restrain his annoyance, but couldn't help slamming the receiver down angrily.

_Fucking politicians._

* * *

><p>There was a boy standing like a sentry in the middle of the corridor. Even from a distance, Sendoh could make out the firm security of his stance and roguish tussle of his hair. It struck him immediately that, whoever it was, his entry into their circle was going to be a marked one, although whether good or bad, Sendoh didn't know.<p>

They approached, Mitsui leading the way as was his habit. His steps did not falter at the sight of the sentry but, rather, sped up as if excited by the prospect of a confrontation. Sendoh spared Mitsui a quick glance as they moved forwards. He was beginning to feel like he understood this man; the sense of purpose he only seemed to find in fighting, his impatience with anything that resembled strategy or planning. Even now the eagerness of his gait and the flashing excitement in his eyes marked him out for what he was: a fighter, living only for the adrenaline of battle.

Kogure, by contrast, was more than willing to walk quietly two steps behind. But even he moved a strange assured confidence that Sendoh could not bring himself to feel. Kogure's quick steps were even and his gaze steady, as if this were just a simple stroll, as if there were nothing in the world to worry about. Sendoh could only bite his lip fiercely and try and convince himself of the same.

Looking forward, once again, to the lone boy who was closer and closer with every step they took, Sendoh tried to predict what kind of outcome this situation might lead them to. However, having had no encounters of such a kind before, he couldn't even begin to guess. This whole escapade had been his idea, of course, but now they were really here, in unknown territory, making themselves known to an unknown gang, he couldn't help but be aware of his own nerves. The paralysing fear that crept along his spine like cold fingers, freezing his words in his throat, twisting his stomach sickeningly. He wasn't ready for this.

He tried to reassure himself. He tried to reach into his own psyche and take a hold of the confidence he had once had, the strong leader he had once been years ago, before the horrors of prison life had destroyed him. Though he tried, he found that he kept slipping between his own fingers like a bright fish hiding in the murky waters of his mind. In the end, he realised, he was just like Kogure – relying on Mitsui to carry them through this encounter. The realisation frustrated him.

Still they approached, and despite his struggles, Sendoh found himself gravitating naturally behind Mitsui as if electing him as their spokesperson. But in the end it was the sentry who spoke first.

"Who the fuck are you?"

He sounded much as he looked. A little wild, a little unpredictable. But he was alone, and he was facing down the three of them. Yet he didn't give an inch, and that was what was important. That was what meant something.

"We're here to see Maki" Mitsui responded coolly. They had stopped dead in front of the boy, even though the corridor was easily wide enough for three men. It was as if that one boy filled the whole space. It meant a lot.

"The fuck you are" the boy responded to Mitsui's statement, and left it at that. Although he didn't quite match Sendoh in height, he was full of his own fiery dignity. _A lion_ Sendoh thought, looking at him. _He looks like a lion_.

Mitsui made a deliberate show of cracking his knuckles, the tattoo on his forearm fully visible, but although the sentry saw it, it produced no obvious effect. Either, Sendoh decided, he did not know who the _numbers_ were or else, more alarmingly, he just didn't care. That was certainly something to think about.

"Get out of the way" Mitsui snarled warningly, his voice low but his eager expression betraying his brimming anticipation for the fight.

Sendoh curled his toes in his shoes and stepped up closer to Mitsui, adding his presence to their front in the hope that the boy would simply back down. Kogure, as always, hung back. Fighting, after all, was not his job.

"Ha!" the boy before them barked in fearless amusement, clenching his own fists and adjusting his feet into a steadier stance. There wasn't a shred of doubt in his face. What, Sendoh wondered in astonishment, gave this boy so much confidence? It was… disconcerting.

Mitsui gamely raised his fist and took half a step forward, ready to swing. A sudden short, sharp shout made him pause.

"Stop" it snapped, in a tone that brooked no contradiction.

The sentry boy visibly winced and took a step to the side, looking back over his shoulder to observe a second boy heading their way down the corridor. At the sight of this newcomer, a shudder ran down Sendoh's back, although he didn't exactly know why. Even Mitsui took an instinctive step backwards, bumping gently into Sendoh's shoulder as he retreated before the boy's approach.

_Is this Maki_? Sendoh wondered briefly. _Their leader?_ He would have willingly believed it.

Completely different to Sendoh's expectations, this boy was tall, willowy and slender. His hair was neat and his face pale with round, doe eyes that seemed to feign a strange kind of innocence. Yet there was something about him that spoke in warning. Something warped. Twisted. In his quiet steps and his piercing stare, it was like bloodlust. He _smelt_ like blood. The boy's stone cold stare was in complete contradiction to his seemingly fragile appearance.

He approached them with an elegant sway that put Sendoh in mind of a luring naiad, tempting the unwary into bloodthirsty demise.

"That's enough, Kyota" he said softly as he came among them, fixing the shorter boy with a stare.

"Jin…" Kyota grumbled, giving way. He fixed Mitsui with a bitter stare but clearly had no intention of arguing further.

Sendoh squinted his eyes in confusion at this peculiar Jin. He tried to see where the boy's authority came from, but couldn't work it out. Sweet-faced and wide-eyed there was nothing intimidating about him apart from his mysteriously calm violence that seemed to ripple somewhere under his skin. Certainly in physical strength he didn't look like any match for an angry Mitsui. And yet…

He frowned. One thing was for sure; these _kings_ were quite unlike any other prisoners Sendoh had ever met. Neither of them seemed to fit into the so-familiar rules that governed prison society. He vaguely remembered Sakuragi speaking so many weeks ago of Kaede Rukawa as an _exception_. He began to wonder now if there weren't others who had somehow managed to exist on a different plane.

"My name is Jin" the boy introduced himself smoothly, his gaze travelling over each of them in turn. "You must be the rogue _numbers_ who have caused such uproar."

As the gaze paused thoughtfully on him, Sendoh did his utmost simply not to shift his weight under the intensity of the boy's stare. Whatever gauge this Jin was measuring them by, Sendoh could only hope feverishly that they were enough.

In response to the statement, Mitsui once again raised his arm to show his brand and Jin looked at it and smiled an oddly toppled smile.

"Yes, I see. Well then, welcome, _numbers_. Maki has been expecting you. Follow me." His eyes passed briefly back to Kyota; "As you were" he instructed simply.

_If Maki is even half as chilling as this guy_ Sendoh realised, heart sinking, _this is going to be difficult._

"Oi, wait" Mitsui called out to Jin who stopped and glanced back at him enquiringly.

Mitsui licked his lips nervously before speaking out as gruffly as he could manage. "You're a _number_ too, aren't you?"

Jin gave no response except a gentle tilt his head and a sly smile. With one long finger he slid the rough fabric of his sleeve up to reveal the pale, smooth skin of his inner wrist along with the stain of black ink so in contrast to it. The elegant twist of black lines that seemed almost alive as they swam around the figures, bunching into illusionary shapes and forming the abject spirals of possession.

And the _numbers_. Like a definition.

"Shit" Mitsui swore quietly under his breath when he saw it.

Even Sendoh's heart felt like it skipped a beat.

_Twenty three_, it said.

Silently Jin turned and led them on down the corridor, past empty cells identical to the ones Sendoh saw every day on the other side of the block. On they walked, further and further away from the central dining hall somewhere behind them, past a shower room until Jin finally turned and led them into one of the open-doored cells. Uncertainly, they followed him in.

It was not, as Sendoh had expected, a small two-man cell like the one he shared with Sakuragi. It was a larger space, with beds enough for eight men against the walls, and a space in the centre not quite big enough to accommodate the three of them. There was a typical toilet installed in one corner, a sink and a high barred window through which dirty light brightened the concrete. It was cold and uncomfortable and squalid – this roomful of a court of kings.

Each springed bed was occupied by a man, sitting or reclining, each of whom stared at them as they entered. All of them looked suspicious. All of them looked dangerous.

Jin left them standing uncertainly in the doorway as he moved forward into the room and approached the man who sat directly opposite them, leaning casually against the wall as he too watched them. There was a tray beside him, lying neglected on the top of the bed sheet and containing the half-eaten remains of a meal.

_They don't eat in the dining hall _Sendoh realised, surprised. _That's why I've never seen them but… why does Norio tolerate such a thing?_

Jin crawled carefully onto the mattress, springs creaking under his knees, moving close to speak quietly into the man's ear, so close his lips nearly brushed his skin. Though Sendoh had never seen the man before there was no doubt in his mind finally that this must be Maki. A former twenty-eight and now a capable gang leader in his own right. He seemed shorter than Sendoh had expected, but he was stocky and muscular. His eyes were small in a hard-lined, serious face, and vestiges of battle were evidenced by old scars on his neck and across one eye. He did not look like someone to cross. He had tilted his head to listen to Jin's message, but his eyes moved straight to Kogure who still stood in Mitsui's shadow.

"Kiminobu" he greeted him with a sweep of his arm and a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Surprised, Sendoh looked over at Mitsui who immediately stepped forward as if he were the one who had been addressed. "Maki" he greeted, straight-backed and confident.

Maki sneered slightly, staring at Mitsui contemptuously, "Who are _you_?" he demanded, as if speaking to him left a bad taste on his tongue.

Mitsui's expression immediately clouded angrily at the snub, hands balling as he opened his mouth to lash a retort. But before he could, Kogure quickly stepped forward and for the first time stood not behind, but in front.

"Maki, you must remember my student Mitsui" Kogure said quickly.

Maki smirked, clearly amused by Mitsui's furious indignity, "Oh _yes_ I remember something like that. But I thought your student was a twenty eight, Kiminobu?" He ran his eyes over Kogure meaningfully. "But I see that can't have been the case, since here you are… beaten like a cheap whore."

"Wha-?" Mitsui began furiously, but Kogure held out a hand to quiet him.

Maki grinned provokingly. He lifted a hand to settle possessively on the back of Jin's neck as if holding the collar of a dog. Jin, still sitting beside him on the bed, did nothing but watch the three of them with interest.

_A rider?_ Sendoh stared at Jin and blinked in disbelief. That couldn't be possible. Nothing about Jin suggested such a thing. There wasn't a single mark on his smooth, boyish skin, not to mention the pride with which he held up his head and stared each of them down disdainfully.

As he watched, across the cold space Jin's eyes met Sendoh's. He did not look away. No longer paying attention to Maki or to the conversation he continued to silently appraise Sendoh curiously. There wasn't a shred of defeat in his eyes. He was brimming with his own sharp-eyed intelligence.

_No,_ Sendoh realised, _he's not really a rider. He is what they call… a student._ _Even though he belongs to that man, it isn't a source of shame for him. He's proud to be Maki's student, because it makes him powerful too._

_Even though he pays for the privilege with his body like a rider does, he still has power in his turn._

_Because Jin learns from Maki._

_And Mitsui learns from Kogure._

_Just like Kaede must have learnt from… Liron._

_Kaede…_

And then abruptly he wondered: _Did Kaede used to sit like a dog at Liron's feet, just like that?_

Sendoh shook the thought out of his head and tried to focus on what was going on around him.

Maki was still smiling. Absent-mindedly he stroked the fine hair on the back of Jin's nape with his thumb.

It was true that compared to Jin, Kogure looked pitiful. How irreconcilable that here, in Maki's strange court so punctuated by the old laws of the _numbers_, Kogure was obviously Mitsui's superior; while out there amongst the modern rules he was trash under the heel of the gang. A perfect victim. Looking at Jin and Kogure was like watching two separate systems colliding.

"I found him" Maki explained in response to Mitsui and Kogure's questioning stares, his eyes moving over Jin affectionately, "riding with some pathetic excuse for a gang. Of course, when I realised he was a _number_ I took him. After all, defending the other sects is our pride as twenty-eights, isn't it, _Mitsui_?"

Sendoh wanted to wince at the insult. Mitsui's pride, he was sure, was not going to stand for much more of this goading. Indeed, Mitsui looked like he was bubbling with rage, and only Kogure's open palm was holding him back.

"You should be careful, Mitsui," Maki continued, clearly finding enjoyment in needling Mitsui mercilessly, "that tattoo doesn't mean anything if you don't have guts enough to back it up. I'm not stupid enough to help such idiots who go around making a show of themselves, shouting the name of the _numbers_ loud enough for Norio to hear, and then can't even protect one single guy."

"We don't need any of your help" Mitsui suddenly spat furiously, finally pushing Kogure aside and stepping forward again aggressively. "You make out like you're so smart, so goddamn fucking elite. All you do is hide back here, too fucking scared to even go out into the dining hall. You're just a bunch of little fucking mice in a hole _congratulating _yourselves on being so powerful. _Bullshit_."

Sendoh winced as five or six men immediately leapt angrily to their feet, fully ready to charge down Mitsui who stood at the centre of them all, animated with rage and looking like he'd more than welcome the fight.

And Sendoh realised, in that instant, that all he had hoped and risked in coming here was on the verge of slipping away from him. Caught up in petty squabbles between the disintegrated factions of former _numbers,_ he was losing sight of everything.

He'd ended up relying on Mitsui, and that was a mistake. He couldn't expect anything of anyone else. This wasn't about Mitsui. This was _Sendoh's_ war, and _Sendoh's _pride.

So without even thinking he too stepped forward, out from the back where he'd been standing mostly unnoticed, his eyes fierce with the sudden renewed rush of determination that came whenever his thoughts returned to that lonely dark cell.

"Maki-san" he said loudly, puncturing the aggression. Jin tilted his head in curiosity. All eyes around the room turned to him, including Mitsui's. Under the combined scrutiny of everyone, he felt himself falter momentarily, but then he drew himself upright. "We're not here to trouble you for help. We're here to offer you an opportunity."

Maki narrowed his eyes again. "And who the hell are _you_?"

"My name is Sendoh Akira."

"What number?"

"I don't have a number." It came out a lot more confidently than he had expected it to. Almost brazen.

Maki leaned forwards slightly. Jin continued to watch him intensely.

"You're not a _number_?"

Sendoh shook his head resolutely. A wave of confused murmurs rose. For some reason, it made Sendoh grin. He wondered if he were going mad.

_Probably,_ he decided.

"Then what are you doing here?" Maki demanded. "Why are you with them?"

It felt good to see Maki looking momentarily stumped. Sendoh's grin widened at the unfamiliar rush of control he felt. For the first time in two years he felt like he had some kind of power over his own fate. If he had a place in this godforsaken place, surely it was here, convincing them to dance for him.

"I wanted to find out whether our aims are the same" he replied casually, settling his face once again into a confident grin.

Maki stared at him fiercely, his previous squabbling with Mitsui entirely forgotten in the face of this new oddity. "And? What are these… _aims _of yours?"

Sendoh looked around, at the nine men who stared at him with interest, feeling suddenly like a puppet master, pulling them along. He knew he was in one of his reckless moods again, but he couldn't stop now. He felt like he had control. He felt like he had Kaede at his back.

"To break out" he replied triumphantly, his eyes glittering provokingly. "I'm going to break out of this jail."

There was a moment of tense silence following this proclamation then-

"_What_?" Mitsui hissed in astonishment at about the same time that Maki threw back his head and laughed from the depths of his gut as if it were the most amusing thing he had ever heard. The other men in the room exchanged dark, uncertain looks.

Only Jin gave no obvious reaction, still watching Sendoh as if he were an interesting anomaly.

"And just how" Maki declared loudly after a moment to settle his mirth, "do you intend to do that?"

"By contacting the Tokyo Sect" Sendoh replied confidently.

"Are you an idiot? What makes you think they'll come?"

Sendoh's eyes brightened as attention came back to focus on him more seriously once again. "I have a trump card" he replied knowingly. "They'll come."

"And what exactly is it that you want from me?" Maki queried, eyes moving over Sendoh with astute suspicion.

With a confident tilt of his head and an expectant stare, Sendoh turned his attention to Kogure who gaped at him blankly for a moment before something in Sendoh's raised eyebrows clicked.

"Uh… yeah erm…" Kogure stammered in confusion, "…that's right, but er, we need a twenty-seven."

"A twenty-seven" Sendoh repeated, nodding and smiling over at Maki. "What do you say?"

Maki's eyebrows furrowed. "Nobody escapes from this prison" he protested suspiciously, "no one since Stanley Q. And _he_ had the entire numbers gang to help him, at the peak of their strength. So whatever you're planning now, I'm telling you it's impossible."

"It isn't" Sendoh insisted, locking his eyes determinedly with Maki's. "I'm going to get out of here. I guarantee it. The only question is, will you be coming too?"

Maki looked highly uncertain, but somewhere in the depths of him it was as if Sendoh had planted a doubt. A hope. Just a small one. Cruel flickers of faith to eternally torment the damned. Even if he logically dismissed it all as nonsense, he could never fully extinguish it. _What if_. The whole damn prison was full of futile _what ifs_. But everyone was susceptible to them, even someone as battle weary as Maki. And besides it had been a long time, a long long time, since anyone had had the audacity to even dream of _escape_.

He opened his mouth to make a reply, but before he could a loud shout sounded from the corridor behind them. Sendoh immediately whirled around only to collide violently with a limp Kyota who was hurled into the cell, sending both of them falling back to the ground. Striking his head against the floor, Kyota's weight over him, Sendoh lay dazed for a moment, confused. Then he heard feet, movement quick and violent, heard Kogure's cry of pain and Maki's shout.

Then, as the commotion lulled, he heard that voice he wouldn't ever forget.

"Hello, Maki."

There was an empty silence. Sendoh tried to lift his head to see, but was too concussed to move. He only groaned.

_Norio? What's he doing here? Why now?_

There was movement again. A thump and a grunt as someone hit the floor, the sound of quiet scuffling, an effortless victory coupled with an absolute defeat. There wouldn't be any resistance. Norio didn't tolerate resistance.

"Take them to isolation" Norio's was the only voice amongst the yielding silence and obedient movements.

Sendoh lay and waited, confused and wondering whether he'd been forgotten, the combination of his bruised skull and Kyota's weight preventing him from doing anything at all.

Eventually, however, an unknown official kicked Kyota over with one boot and, grasping Sendoh by the scruff hauled him to his feet where he stood woozily. He would have fallen to the ground again if the guard hadn't kept a firm hold of his shirt.

"Here he is" the man commented with disdain. "Pathetic as usual."

Blinking, Sendoh tried to look around. He saw Jin's face, white. Bloodless. Pure. His expression of shock was mirrored all around the room, on the faces of the men who hadn't moved, frozen into useless immobility where they sat on their beds.

But of Maki, Mitsui and Kogure there was no sign.

Sendoh groaned as his head throbbed nastily, his eyes coming finally to focus on Norio's nearby eyes. The man was staring at him. There was no obvious emotion on his face – not disgust nor disdain. Not even dislike. Just… staring. As if trying to see something that just wasn't there.

"As we discussed" Norio said quietly to the guard who turned to look back at him.

"Are you sure?"

Sendoh wondered if he imagined the reluctance. The way Norio seemed to chew on his own cheeks with indecision.

"Just get it done" the prison overseer finally snapped irritably, narrowing his eyes and turning away.

The last thing Sendoh saw as they pulled him none too gently out of the room was Jin's face, a grim mixture of fear and anger. After that, he didn't remember much else.

~tbc

ANs: I hope this makes sense. I kind of rushed it since I was determined to finish it today. Some bits didn't get much more than a brief re-read so… sorry if there are any mistakes/inconsistencies/rough patches – just let me know!


	14. Chapter 14

**Anita:**Ahh~ so glad you are okay! Hope things are looking up for you. As for your questions: no, teachers wouldn't get to choose their own students, it would be assigned by someone else. As for the Jin-Kaede thing, it will be explained in the next chapter!  
>Haha I think Anne Rice did the vampire thing so much better than Meyer – I really recommend her books!<p>

**Addicted**** to ****SD:**Hey hey :) Sendoh's journey is a mad emotional rollercoaster lol. Even I'm confused xD Poor boy lol. Yup, Jin is a 23 too, but not one of particularly high status (whereas Kaede was the leader of all the 23s), so that's why Norio picked on Kaede rather than anyone else. Thanks a lot for your review!

**Tidbits**: Nyahahaha. Psycho-Jin! It just had to be done xD I love him to pieces already xD Can't say I have any plans for the coaches to show up =.=" lol. As for your questions: Kogure became a rider because Mitsui wasn't strong enough to protect him on his own (hence all Maki's provoking him over it). The thing with the Kings will be explained a bit later :) Hope you're doing well :)

**Thine Own Palace  
>Chapter 14<strong>

Sendoh didn't pay much attention as they led him back into the familiar out building. He already knew where they were taking him; to that cold place of discomfort and quiet. The cell beside Kaede's.

Ordinarily it would have meant something to him. Just the chance to see him, to make sure that he was still clinging to that ever-weakening thread of life. To comfort himself that Norio still hadn't broken him. It ought to have made his heart hammer.

But Sendoh's mind was elsewhere. It was running alongside his unfortunate companions, wondering where and why Norio had taken them, too nervous to dare to imagine what might be in store for them.

He felt… exhausted. Frustrated. All that; the risk, the time in isolation, days of starvation, clutching at such a thin hope. A plan. Finally he had had a _plan_. And it had been baby steps short of fruitation. A matter of minutes and he might have convinced Maki. He had been so close, now only to find himself back at the beginning. Doomed to endure the ever-repeating cycle. Days, nights, the concrete walls and metal bars. Always the same. Continuing and unchanging. Hopeless.

It made him feel… tired.

Even if he struggled, in the end perhaps he would never achieve anything. Not for Kaede, not for the prison, not even for himself. Every road, it seemed to him then, was just another dead end.

He hung his head and didn't look up until the cell bars clanged closed behind him, and only then did he realise that something was different. Something was wrong. For some reason the cycle was not revolving quite the way it should.

He stared.

Rising from the centre of his cell floor was a familiar yet alien post. Hardwood, rough and thick. He recognised it, of course, but it hadn't been there before. He stared uncomprehending for a moment. Then, as if succumbing to heavy gravity, his eyes dropped down to the figure who was collapsed tired and hurt at its base, and then slid to the side to gaze blankly into the empty cell on his left.

"Wait!" he exclaimed in surprise, spinning around only to be met with the smug grins of the two guards behind him.

"Be careful" one of them advised mockingly, "he bites."

Sendoh didn't know what to say or how to react. He only followed them dumbly with his eyes as, laughing, they turned to leave.

_Kaede__'__s__ cell_. His heart thudded in his ears.

_He was in Kaede's cell._

He shivered as he turned his body back around to face his new and dangerous cell mate, the concrete grating noisily under his heel. He felt stiff from head to toe, every muscle tense and nervous. He could only wonder dumbly what Norio was playing at now, and try to guess what this strange development could mean.

Kaede was, as usual, apparently sleeping. He had not responded to this bizarre turn of events. He didn't seem to be aware of them or, indeed, of anything. His head lolled uncomfortably forward onto his chest, his wrists still handcuffed around the post behind him, eyes closed. An attitude that Sendoh had seen many times before and yet… and yet now things seemed so different.

The bars.

The bars were gone.

Instinctively Sendoh kept away from him, staying near the door uncertainly. He didn't know what to do. They were alone, just two of them. There were no barriers, and Sendoh felt afraid, almost as if he'd been thrust out under the burning sun and left to die. Slowly, he sank to the floor where he was.

He took in the sight of Kaede all over again, as if seeing him for the first time. The exhaustion in his young face turned old, the frailty in his hollowed cheeks and bony shoulders. He seemed more like a suffering, sickly old man rather than what ought to have been strong and vibrant youth. And everywhere the patterning that marked him. The residual reminders of every touch of agony that had lashed over his skin but never, somehow, reached his soul.

Sendoh stared harder.

It suddenly seemed to him that it was no longer a question of whether this boy could be broken.

Better to ask _was__ there__ anything__ left__ to__ break?_

He bit his lip. Seeing him was like waking up, like disillusionment. Out in the prison, and deep in Sendoh's mind, Kaede was everywhere. In everything. Haunting every corner of this prison which he'd once owned, ruled, _defined_. It was as if they were one and the same; Kaede and the prison. Sendoh couldn't even contemplate the thought of one without the other. But _out__ there_ Sendoh felt him and knew him and he was… _strong_. He was like wings. He had been there, right there beside Sendoh when he's sat in Norio's office staring down fate, when he'd first dreamed of escape, when he'd found his courage to stand up in front of Maki.

But the Kaede Sendoh had constructed of jumbled glimpses and flashes of thought, and this physical one sat before him now, seemed so irreconcilably different.

Sendoh gazed again at his bowed head, his lashed wrists, his bodily exhaustion and wondered; is he out there now? In his mind, does he still stride down those same corridors? Does he dream that he still sits among loyal subordinates, commands them, rules over them? Does he remember the times when he used to be strong, deadly, like a monarch in this place? Or… is that past just a strange and senseless dream to him, and Norio, that post and this rank cell the only things he knows and has ever known?

Thinking on it, something strange curled in Sendoh's stomach. It was like nostalgia. Twisted nostalgia for a time which he hadn't even known. Imagine… if somehow Sendoh had been there to see Kaede at the height of his strength, sitting at the head of the infamous twenty threes… the feared _judges_ of the numbers gang… what a sight he must have been then. What a silhouette he would have cut striding into the dining hall. Even with Liron Kai holding his leash still, Sendoh was sure, it would have been worth worlds to witness that.

And Sendoh, had he been there, perhaps Sendoh could have been at Kaede Rukawa's right hand. Perhaps, even - and his breath hiccuped just to think of it - he could have been Kaede's student. He felt utterly breathless just to imagine it. Kaede could have been his teacher, and he would have been his student, and he would. He would. He would have done _anything_.

What a story they might have forged together. If things had been different. If only. If only…

The more he stared the more he came to know it. Like a slowly clearing dream. How pitiful Kaede was now. How pitiful they both were.

He was staring at the heart of the prison, he knew it. Still beating faintly, but fading away, like a star flicking out. And no matter how much he wished it, he knew in his heart that he was never going to see Kaede Rukawa rise again. All he was chasing were ghosts. And like a yawning chasm the realisations stretched before him. _How__ much_. How much had been lost. How much he had missed. And how sad. How very sad.

If it had still been within his capacity to cry, he might well have done so now. It seemed as good a time as any.

He sat, bringing his knees up to his chest, staring ahead at the broken past. Looking and dreaming and struggling with his emotions until night began to fall and the high, dirty windows darkened. And only then, and only with a sigh, did he finally speak into that damp, uncomfortable air.

"Kaede" he called him.

It was like he had spoken a spell. Summoned a god, or perhaps woken a demon. Because immediately, in response to Sendoh's voice, Kaede's spell of sleep was broken and he lifted his head. He cracked open his fierce eyes and saw Sendoh sitting like an intruder in his cell. And the silence then was suddenly blistering.

Sendoh waited in case Kaede would speak, although of course no such thing happened. Finally he tried to answer the unasked questions stamped across Kaede's wide eyes.

"I don't know" he explained helplessly, "why they've put me here."

In the continued silence that followed his remark, Sendoh was struck with the strangest sense that Kaede already knew why. It wasn't as if the boy said anything, but it was just an impression. An instinct. Something in the way he shifted his weight ever so slightly. As if nervous.

Sendoh felt colder than ever.

Slowly, uncertainly, he climbed to his knees and began to crawl tentatively in Kaede's direction. _Like__ a __moth_ he realised, _drawn __inescapably __towards __my __own __fiery __demise_.

So he moved closer. But Kaede's reaction surprised him. The boy made as if to retreat, drawing his legs up protectively, feet scuffling on the concrete floor, handcuffs clinking loudly with his movements. _Almost_, Sendoh thought, _as __if __he __is __afraid._

But… afraid?

Afraid of… _me?_

His gut felt empty, like he'd been punched. Not even Norio, that hideous nightbringer, who came with knives and blackness and cold-edged agony, received such a fearful reaction. What had Sendoh done to deserve such a thing?

In confusion he drew closer, reaching out a hand as if to appeal. As if reaching out to a frightened child.

The words came to him in a horrid hiss. Angry and frightened like a cornered animal at the end of its strength.

"Stay back."

Sendoh froze. Kaede's eyes were wild, fixed on him as if he were nothing less than a vision of terror. Sendoh dropped his hand in astonishment.

Kaede's was… a natural reaction. Two weeks ago, this was precisely what Sendoh would have expected. A boy kept in isolation, tortured and mutilated beyond endurance. Of course he would be afraid. Of course he would… react like this. If it had been anyone else, Sendoh would have expected nothing less. But… this was _Kaede_. And because it was Kaede, Sendoh was shocked to hear such fear, such desperate vulnerability from him. And, if he was honest with himself, even more so since those emotions were directed not at some unknown stranger but… at Sendoh himself.

So he stared at him, this cowering child, full of hurt rejection, unable to understand.

"But…" he protested weakly, mystified "…I won't hurt you." It sounded pathetic, even to his own ears.

Kaede remained as he was, pushing back against his imprisoning post in an effort to keep away, his whole body tense like a spring, his harsh breaths audible.

Sendoh stayed where he was, kneeling perhaps only an arms length away, feeling bruised to his soul. He hadn't expected… rejection. Not for a moment had he expected this. And it hurt him so his eyes stung.

That bond. He supposed he, too, had come to believe in it. Even to rely on it. And perhaps he had taken it for granted that it was somehow… mutual. That the stirring in his soul had been echoed in Kaede's but… this? He couldn't comprehend. And it… hurt.

"Kaede…" he whispered again, no longer caring that it sounded so much like a plea. _Don__'__t__ you __know __that __you __are __the __only __thing __driving __me __forwards __now? __Everything __I__'__m __doing __is __for __your __sake. __Without __you__… __I __have __nothing__._

Never had Kaede's silence bothered him as it suddenly did now. It had always been comforting to him, as if they'd both been in harmony with each other. Yet now it seemed to jar in violent discord. He'd never thought he'd wish for Kaede's voice as ferociously as he did now. _Speak,__ goddamnit,__ speak!_

And then, slowly, when Sendoh made no further attempts to move closer, the tension in Kaede's wasted limbs gradually uncurled. It was with great reluctance that his lips parted and, with Sendoh straining to hear him, his breath set quietly forth.

"They died" he confided, his voice low and weak.

"Who?" Sendoh queried, his voice lowering to match Kaede's quiet volume. "Who died?"

"The ones before" Kaede sighed, giving a dazed shake of his head, "who they put with me."

Sendoh sat back and pursed his lips in thought. He wasn't the first to be in this situation with Kaede. Well, of course, that stood to reason. Norio would try anything to encourage Kaede to talk. It would have been odd if he hadn't put others in with Kaede before but… why had he then killed them? Sendoh wondered if he was misunderstanding Kaede's words.

"They died?" he tried to clarify, "Norio… killed them?"

"No. " The refute came at once, clear but strangely nervous. Sendoh tilted his head slightly. With a quiet sigh, Kaede closed his eyes and leant his head back against the wood. "_I_ killed them."

Somehow, Sendoh wasn't as distressed as he would have expected. Perhaps it was just his relief at hearing an explanation for Kaede's earlier reaction. Perhaps it was because he no longer held much value for this lingering life that kept his heart enslaved and beating against his ribs. Whatever the reason, his voice came flat, reasonable, almost analytical in his response.

"Why?"

There was no reply.

Sendoh closed his eyes as if meditating upon this. Carefully he tried to hold his breaths to long, deep strokes, forcing himself to relax his tension.

_Weaknesses_. He divined it quickly enough. Norio was looking for weaknesses; that seemed obvious. And in Kaede's position… what would he have done? The only course of action that to Kaede would have seemed expedient, no doubt, was to eliminate those risks. Confound Norio's attempts to weaken him by slaughtering those would-be weaknesses himself.

Then… what a precedent he had set. How high was the bar facing them right now.

It was only once he felt quite sure that he could frame the question without his voice cracking that Sendoh finally asked it;

"Will you… kill me too?"

He wondered if he was imagining it, how Kaede seemed to also be forcing himself to control his breathing.

"…no."

How bizarre, Sendoh thought to himself with a quiet sigh, to sit there talking so calmly about his own death with his own would-be murderer. His eyebrows ticked in curiosity.

_Why__ not?_ He wanted to ask, and yet somehow knew he wouldn't receive an answer. Perhaps Kaede himself didn't even know why. Or perhaps he did. Perhaps the indomitable _Liron __Kai_ was acting as Sendoh's lucky benefactor once again. All Sendoh could be sure of was that he wouldn't be able to bear hearing that pathetically irritating excuse escape from Kaede's lips. Even if it was the truth – he didn't want to hear it.

So he forced himself to slow down. To think. _What__ next?_He looked down at his hands, and felt his heartbeat speed up in his chest.

_If__ Kaede __doesn__'__t __kill __me_, he realised, _I __will __have __become __exactly __what __Norio __wants. __A __tool __to __break __him __with._ _A __wedge __with __which __to __force __him __open._ The trap Norio had set around him suddenly became all too apparent.

Probably they would torture him, Sendoh felt suddenly sick thinking about it, in the hope of causing Kaede to crack. The images of what he'd seen Kaede endure raced through his mind deafeningly. The blood. The screams. The sharp smell of burning flesh. He realised his hands were trembling. Would he be able to… endure that? He was not like Kaede. Not like… Liron. Not really that strong. Involuntarily his hand went up to his throat. He swallowed.

Perhaps…

Perhaps it would be better if Kaede killed him after all. Surely… he could do it. Perhaps with teeth in his throat he could spare Sendoh from that terrifying fate. His eyes flickered upwards to meet Kaede's hopefully.

Kaede stared back at him. Perhaps he was weighing up exactly the same considerations. Perhaps wondering to himself whether he could endure the weight of his conscience if he was forced to watch Sendoh slowly and meticulously destroyed before his eyes.

Sendoh was trembling more violently by the moment. How could he possibly choose between two such fates? And even if he wanted death, how was he to convince Kaede to give it to him?

_They're all dead now._

Those had been… Norio's words. So long ago it seemed now, but how loudly they echoed in Sendoh's mind. They were all dead. They had all… abandoned him. Liron. The other four leaders. Those unfortunate enough to be thrown into Kaede's cell as one of Norio's early, ill-fated experiments. Death had released them all from their suffering… but had somehow left him behind. How… lonely. To have been abandoned in such agony. Always him. It was always Kaede who had been left behind – upon whom no mercy had fallen.

_Now I, too, would abandon him? Would beg him to release me from his side?_

Sendoh stared at Kaede wide-eyed. He didn't know. He didn't know what to do. And it panicked him.

Slowly Kaede's gaze slid away, peering off into the distance as if seeing the hazy future somewhere over Sendoh's left shoulder. "Be…" he began tiredly.

"…thine own palace" Sendoh finished with a snap, anger suddenly flaring out of nowhere, frustration lacing his voice. They were faced with such a dilemma and yet Kaede still insisted on speaking in riddles. "What the hell does that even mean?" he demanded in anger fuelled by his fear. Probably it meant nothing. Probably it was just the senseless rambling of a tortured mind.

"You…" Kaede commented softly, a vague and distant smile snaking brokenly over his face, "…lead."

Sendoh frowned, the conversation incoherent. And yet it grated over him once again. Lead. Liron. Liron, again! He doubted he would ever be able to escape that stigma in Kaede's eyes. But… was Kaede really going to do nothing? To say nothing of sense? Was he going to leave Sendoh to face this dilemma alone? He was almost convinced by now that Kaede wasn't in full possession of his mind. Perhaps he never had been.

"Born to…" Kaede repeated druggedly, still gazing away into the folds of time, "…a greater leader than… I."

"What are you talking about?" Sendoh demanded aloud. In his mind he asked _Who __are__ you__ talking__ to?_

_Liron __isn__'__t__ here.__ I__'__m__ not__ him.__ I__'__m __not__ him__ at__ all.__ Then__ why__ must__ you__ force__ so__ much __faith__ on__ me? __Why __are __you __pulling __me __down__ with __you? __Just__ because__ I__ look __like__ someone__ you__ used__ to__ know,__ it__ isn__'__t__ fair.__ Why __am__ I__ here?__ Why __is__ this__ happening__ to __me?__ Just__ because__ you __singled__ me__ out.__ It__'__s__ your__ fault! __Norio __is__ going__ to__ destroy__ me,__ and__ all__ you__ can__ do__ is__ form__ wild__ hallucinations!_

He wanted to scream at him, shake him, hit him. He even reached forward to do precisely that, but a quiet noise behind him made him suddenly freeze in cold fear. A tiny ping, like metal on metal.

They weren't alone after all.

It was only then that Sendoh realised that Kaede was not staring vaguely into the distance at all, but that he was looking at something behind him. His soul feeling like lead, Sendoh turned slowly to look back over his shoulder, fully expecting to see Norio leering at him from behind the bars of the cell.

"You see…" Kaede continued softly into the tension. "It is not for me, but for you they come."

Sendoh stared in astonishment.

Two people stood before the door of the cell. The shorter one was already busy working on the lock with a pin. His lion's mane of hair had been pulled back from his face with a band, revealing the brand on the side of his neck, just behind his ear. _Twenty-seven_ it read. Beside him the other boy stood with his arms folded, staring down at the shivering Sendoh with disdain.

"What you said earlier" the boy spoke with low, threatening confidence, "I hope you meant it."

Legs trembling, Sendoh somehow managed to stagger to his feet.

"Jin…" he breathed in astonishment, "…how…?"

Jin raised a hand to silence him. "If Norio thinks we're too stupid to act without Maki's direct orders, then more the fool him."

Sendoh glanced back towards Kaede, only to see that the boy had resumed him previous attitude of enchanted sleep. Eyes closed, chin dropped exhausted to his frail chest. Still, Sendoh was left to wonder whether the minute smile flickering at the corners of his bloodied lips was just his imagination.

"So…" Jin drew Sendoh's attention again "…what do we need to do?"

The plan came crashing back to him. _Norio__'__s__ office.__ The__ Tokyo __Sect. __Kaede._

Sendoh took a deep breath, balling his hands into fists.

"We have to get into the administration corridor" he replied calmly, stepping out through the door Kyota had just popped open. In response to their incredulous stares he gave the most brazen smile he could manage. "You up for this?"

They nodded at him silently, eyes steeled.

Feeling once again that euphoric rush of control, Sendoh spared Kaede one last glance. He felt strangely reassured by Kaede's ever-silent passivity. His whole-hearted _faith_. And recognising it for what it was he turned away and, with Kyota and Jin following silently, led the way out of the dilapidated building and into the prison's crisp moonlit air. His first breath of freedom's sweet illusion.

~tbc

ANs: November is National Novel Writing Month. Sign up for the NaNoWriMo writing challenge at the website! :D

I'll try and get one more chapter of _Thine__Own_ done before I disappear for a month into the realms of NaNoWriMo ~ in the meantime… come join me! :)


	15. Chapter 15

Ugh. I can't believe I've burnt myself out the night before NaNoWriMo starts getting this done. What an idiot xD

**Anita:**Thanks so much! I do think I'm slowly getting better at getting the characters out of my head and onto the page :D I remember for R+J I knew _so__ much_ about Kaede and next-to-nothing about Akira lol – doh! I'm so glad he's become more colourful :)  
>NaNoWriMo is a novel writing challenge (the challenge is to write a 50k word novel within the month of November). Have to average over 1.5k words every day to make it! It's hard work but hopefully lots of fun!<p>

**Addicted****to****SD:**Jealously, eh? Well, maybe. I would hate to rule out the idea :) I've tried to explain the Jin-Kaede thing in this chapter. And as for Kaede getting free – hmm – I wonder if you'll flip your perspective after reading this chapter :P Thanks for another review! :D

**Tidbits**: Hey hey :) Well, I'm glad I've managed to make the characters sympathetic so far. But I've taken a bit of a risk and partially destoryed all of that in this chapter - urk. I hope it works out~ /paranoia. Plus I've done my best to research all the legal terms and stuff but you seriously scare me since you know so much more about the criminal system than me /doom.  
>For Nano? Well I'm writing about gay boys of course. Dear, don't you know me well enough by now? Lmao xD<p>

**Thine Own Palace  
>Chapter 15<strong>

With his breath short Sendoh thumped his back against the brick wall. He drew in his toes to bring them as far into the shadows as possible. On the other side of the doorway Jin did the same. Kyota came swiftly between them and with an efficient set of metallic noises set to work on the iron lock that held the rear fire escape closed.

Sendoh and Jin immediately turned their heads and set their gazes keenly in opposite directions, alert for any sign of movement that might have come at them from either side.

Sendoh tried to quieten his loud breathing, but the hell-for-leather sprint around the outside of T-block's perimeter wall had tired him. They'd woven their frantic way left and right, avoiding the stares of the surveillance cameras at Kyota's direction, to come short of breath to the brick wall of the administration block which poked out through the main wall like a rough sharp-cornered star.

The main body of the administration building was located within the confines of the T-Block perimeter; however T-Block had been built later around it, meaning that one corner of the older admin building still trust its way out of the compound, replacing the wall for a brief way.

It looked different to the other buildings within the prison. Built of brick, and decorated every few feet with a white window pane. The bars which covered each window on the inside were invisible from the out, making the whole thing look somehow more homely, more comforting than the sheer concrete sides of the prisoner's blocks.

From where the three of them crouched now, tense and jumpy, the T-Block perimeter wall ran along horizontally behind them. On the other side of the looming concrete lay the block itself with its two wings and outside dining hall. The wall was, Sendoh estimated, about fifteen feet high, sheer concrete a metre thick, topped with barbed wire and arching spikes through which, according to the warning signs, enough voltage passed to kill a bear. The only way in or out of T-Block was through one of the three sets of holding doors which then led around to here – this scrubby wild land just outside its perimeter.

However, looking around them, there wasn't any feeling of freedom. No horizon or breath of fresh air. Even though they were outside the confines of T-Block, Sendoh realised with dismay, they were still contained within other, encompassing walls, equally high and armoured. They were still well within the onionish layers of walls and gates that formed the rest of the sprawling Fukushima prison. This was only an odd kind of limbo between blocks. A forgotten wasteland without paths or buildings except this odd corner of the administration building and Kaede's isolated, lonely jail; the single, small quarantine long abandoned to the grass and the weeds.

Sendoh felt as if he were being swallowed up, trapped between the rising walls, uncomfortably exposed in this hostile gully. There was an odd creeping paranoia trickling constantly over his skin, afraid that they were even now being watched by hidden electronic eyes from the sharp peaks of the wall tops.

Yet the grounds around them were silent and dark. No noise came from the locked-down prison blocks on either side of them. Nothing but their own breathing and the soft noise of Kyota's moving pins accompanied them under the moonlight. Sendoh's eyes moved nervously about the scrubby, dark grass, coming to rest on the quick-working Kyota for a brief moment before turning outwards again on sentry duty.

A twenty seven, it seemed, did more than just pick locks. Kyota was a veritable expert in moving through the prison undetected. Capable of negotiating doors, even electronic ones, and even the complicated system of holding doors, as well as knowing how to dodge cameras and best use the shadows. He had guided them at a sprint through the minefield of the prison grounds with absolute surety.

If he had struck Sendoh as something of a simple-minded individual before, that opinion was overturned now. In the short duration of their frantic dash over the pot-holed scrubby grass, Sendoh had come to trust in Kyota entirely.

Sendoh's gaze moved up to the taller boy - Jin. Another twenty three. Though his breathing was ragged, Jin still managed to maintain a facade of cold calmness. His eyes darted efficient and calculating in their stare. As if this was all just routine. As if he'd done it a hundred times before. As he made another intense sweep of the surroundings, he came to meet Sendoh's stare abruptly. When Sendoh gave him an uneasy smile, he only glared back in dangerous accusation. Sendoh couldn't help but look away.

"Pin's snapped" Kyota's voice carried in tones of frustration to them both. Jin's soft-breathed curse came in response.

"Can you clean it up?"

"Yeah..." Kyota confirmed, still working at the lock, "I need a minute though."

"Hurry it up" Jin told him shortly, and they lapsed back into silence punctuated only by their short breaths once again.

Kyota worked quietly away and Sendoh found his eyes constantly drawn in curiosity to Jin. He still could make no assessment of this unusual individual. Kyota, by contrast, was easy to understand. Somewhat stubborn, yet highly skilled, faultlessly loyal and capable of real bravery. Though Sendoh couldn't be sure yet whether they were really on the same side, he had seen enough to know that Kyota was in so many ways _likeable_. But Jin…? He just didn't know.

The boy was distant, vague and deceptive. He seemed so many things, and yet was so many others. Was he, for instance, loyal to Maki? Or was he more selfish, ambitious, seizing advantages as they arose? Though Sendoh was not lulled by his naïve, boyish face – everything about Jin's apparent innocence seemed somehow warped and unnatural - still he couldn't begin to fathom Jin's true motivations. The boy was a killer. That much was clear. But whether he killed out of necessity or for his own twisted pleasures, it was impossible to guess.

There came an abrupt clunk of turning mechanisms, and Kyota grinned up at them both.

"Done" he said, a little smugly.

"Good" Jin replied, turning towards the door. In strange contrast to Sendoh's expectations, his praise sounded warm. Like he really meant it. Sendoh saw the flush of pleasure in Kyota's face and was reminded of a dog wagging its tail. He raised an eyebrow. _Maki__ wouldn__'__t__ like __that,_he thought to himself and looked at them both curiously as they stepped inside together.

Unlike the dark outside, bright lights lit the internal corridor end to end so there wasn't a single shadow in which to hide. They closed the door quickly behind them lest the escaping brightness attracted attention outside. Kyota's eyes roamed about, seeking cameras and other surveillance methods. He directed them quickly around a far corner.

"The distribution seems lax" he muttered quietly. "There's less cameras here than in the blocks. Only on every other corridor in the lit areas, but they will be more numerous where the lights are off."

"So we need to stick in the light?" Sendoh queued quietly in confusion. His voice seemed to echo unnaturally loudly in the empty corridor, "Is that normal?"

"Normal for Norio" Kyota muttered darkly. Sendoh sent him a curious look, and Kyota elaborated. "That's how he thinks" he explained. "Norio always assumes we're too stupid to do anything but the obvious. He's convinced that we'll always try to strike from the back, and so he tries to bait us into it. But because he underestimates us he never bothers to guard his front. He's always been like that."

Sendoh nodded silently, and Kyota peered at him keenly. "So, the office" he questioned, "do you know where it is from here?"

Sendoh shook his head.

"Can you remember anything about its location?"

"The door was on a corridor with windows, barred ones" Sendoh recalled. "Outside there was a view of... Trees? And grass."

Kyota nodded vigorously. "Was there a window inside the office itself?"

"No... No, I would have noticed it."

"Then it must be somewhere along the south side" Kyota decided and turned with a brief gesture to follow. Sendoh and Jin fell instantly in behind him.

_So__ this __is __how __the __numbers __operated_ Sendoh thought to himself as they hurried along quietly. _In__ groups, __each __with __a __particular __expertise_. He noted that even though Jin seemed to be Kyota's superior, he still deferred to him in situations like this, as if acknowledging Kyota's greater skill. So then, Sendoh gathered, an expert in moving through the prison – like Kyota – would be supported by those who were good at fighting – the twenty eights, like Mitsui and Maki – and ordinarily would have helped to escort another – perhaps a smuggler like Kogure – to wherever he needed to be. And then there were the twenty threes, who didn't seem to have any particular skills except a cool and distant detachment and an overarching control over proceedings. The ones who held the other sects together like glue. It was like a well-oiled machine, and Sendoh felt a thrill to be acting as part of such an efficient design.

Their route took the three of them around several detours in a bid to avoid the corridors which were actually under surveillance. Sendoh had time to feel grateful that Norio's internal security seemed so lax. Perhaps it was true, as Kyota had said, that the man didn't seriously think he could fail. Didn't think the prisoners poised any real threat to him any more. After all, he was the one who had single-handedly crushed the _numbers_ gang. What, then, could he possibly have to fear?

On they scurried down the corridor like rats on light feet, breathing quickly as they moved. Kyota's guess had been accurate. It wasn't long before they found themselves standing before the door. Those same letters that Sendoh had seen only last week – _R.__L.__ Norio, __Prison __Overseer_. They stood before those words in a kind of suspended disbelief, reading them over and over again. It felt like a threshold. Even though they'd come so far already, breaking out of their cells and breaking in to a restricted area, this hurdle seemed ominously big all of a sudden. And even though the building was silent and utterly deserted around them they couldn't help but wonder whether, somehow, magically, Norio might be waiting for them behind this door. It loomed like a baited trap before them.

"He's..." Kyota spoke into their tension "he's definitely not here, right?"

Jin licked his lips. "All day staff go off shift at seven. It's not like they live here, it's just a job."

Somehow none of them could really imagine Norio with a home and a family to go back to each day.

"The night staff...?" Kyota continued uncertainly.

"Don't work in this block."

"I feel like we're being watched," Kyota confessed his uneasiness, looking around.

Sendoh sighed and, ignoring their whispered nervousness, took a step forward, swallowing his fear and determinedly trying the knob. It was locked. When Kyota did not immediately step forward to deal with it as he ordinarily would have done, Sendoh looked back and stretched out his hand patiently.

"A pin" he requested in a low, calm voice. Silently Kyota passed one to him.

"Don't snap it" Jin immediately threatened, distrusting Sendoh where he would have trusted Kyota.

_Well,_ Sendoh thought to himself, kneeling beside the door and setting to work, _I__'__m__ not __a __number __after __all_. But Jin's concerns were unfounded and it was only the work of moments. The lock was simple, and gave way readily. Sendoh shrugged and made to push the door open when Kyota stopped him. "Wait! There might be something…"

The spell of nerves temporarily broken, Kyota ran his efficient fingers around the frame and, dropping to a crouch, examined the gap under the door for anything unusual. "It seems okay" he said uncertainly, as if he were surprised that there wasn't anything ominous waiting for them, "go ahead."

The knob was clammy in Sendoh's hand so that he thought it might slip. He tried to disguise his nervousness as best he could and, with a deep breath, finally turned it and pushed the door inwards.

Inside it was completely dark, the lights being off, which at first seemed a relief, but only momentarily. Their apprehension was only briefly suspended, returning renewed when Sendoh had to fumble the wall for the lights, aware all over again that there might be someone sitting in the darkness just a few feet away, waiting to greet them.

The lights flickered finally into life. The room was empty. Sendoh let out a sigh of relief as Jin and Kyota stepped in behind him.

Kyota let out a low whistle. "Nice" he commented, looking around in appreciation.

Jin pushed past, wandering dazedly inside, drawn almost hypnotically towards the visions of finery. It was almost in a trace that he laid his hands reverently on the elegant polished tabletop, smoothing his palms over it irresistibly.

"Almost enough to make you feel alive again" Kyota said with a grin, also stepping further inside, and sitting himself down in the delicate chair Sendoh had been handcuffed to so recently.

Shaking his head as if to free it from the illusions of luxury, Sendoh remained mindful of his task and stepped briskly up to the bookcase behind the desk.

The volumes of books looked back at him. Leather bound poetry and paperback novels in amongst tall hard-spined reference books, atlases and encyclopaedias. He ran his fingers along them thoughtfully. Then, mimicking the action he had seen Norio perform he reached out and, taking firm grasp of the smooth wooden edges of the bookshelf, slid the whole thing aside to reveal the shelves of meticulous folders and files packed together and stuffed with data behind the front.

Kyota and Jin were immediately at his side in curiosity.

"Woah' Kyota commented, reaching out immediately for the binder labelled with the words _Kings__ (The),_ but Sendoh distracted him by pulling down and thrusting a different folder at him. _Tokyo__ Sect_, it read.

"Look though this" he told Kyota firmly, "I need to find where the Tokyo Sect is currently based, and how to contact them, if you can find it."

Kyota looked unhappy. "What about you?" He complained in accusation.

Sendoh reached up for another file. "I have something else to look for" he explained vaguely, pulling the binder down and staring at it with baited breath.

Without waiting for Kyota's reply he turned and set the thick folder down carefully on Norio's mahogany desk behind him and opened it reverently, hardly daring to breath. He didn't have far to look. Kaede's photo was on the very first sheet.

Just an early mug shot. But still…. cheeks rounder, eyes brighter, alert and defiant. It was clearly the same face and yet... It was not. This was a picture of a young man. Confident, almost arrogant, and sure of his own strength. Somehow he reminded Sendoh of himself back when he'd first entered this place, back when he hadn't realised just how black his existence could become.

He didn't have time to read much before he became aware of Jin at his side, looking over his shoulder. "That's the boy who was in the cell with you" Jin pointed out suspiciously. "Kaede Rukawa, right? Norio's little bitch." His eyes narrowed and his voice rang with contempt. "What's your connection to _him_?"

"The real question is; what's _yours?_" Sendoh responded icily, indicating the top of the page. Jin bent closer to read.

Prisoner Number: PTXXXX  
><span>Name<span>: Rukawa, Kaede  
><span>Block<span>: T  
><span>Yakuza<span> Affiliation: None, although known to have contact with the _Inagawa-Kai_.  
><span>Prison<span> Gang Affiliation: Numbers  
><span>Denomination<span>: 23  
><span>Rank<span>: 1*

Jin's eyebrows furrowed. "He's a twenty three?" He read over the data once again. "Rank one? So what?"

Sendoh couldn't help but roll his eyes slightly. "Rank one isn't the lowest rank" he responded coldly, flipping the file around to reveal the writing on the spine - _Numbers__ (The) : __23s __(Leaders)_- "It's the highest."

Jin, uncharacteristically, looked utterly blank. "What do you mean?"

"I mean he's one of the six. The leader of the twenty threes" Sendoh said shortly.

"But that's… that's impossible." Jin faltered in the face of this brazen and improbable statement. "They're dead. They're all dead. Everyone knows that."

Sendoh looked up at him in curiosity. "Then who _was_ the leader of the twenty threes?"

Jin made a valiant effort to disguise his confusion. "I don't know" he stated casually. "I never heard."

It was Sendoh's turn to disbelieving. "But _you__'__re_ at twenty three" he pointed out, "why don't you know?"

"I'm not from this block" Jin explained, folding his arms. "None of us are. I'm from Block H. The leader of the twenty threes there was a man named Samagara Kuugi. He was the only one who was in actual contact with the six in T-Block. The rest of us had nothing to do with them."

"You didn't know your own leaders?" Sendoh demanded, incredulous.

"Soldiers take orders from the captain" Jin snapped back, eyes flashing in offence "not from the king." His eyebrows arched contemptuously. "Of course, some of the six were famous in their own right. Like Stanley Q. And Liron Kai. But the rest… we didn't need to know."

Sendoh curled his lip in annoyance. It seemed what Sakuragi had said had been accurate. The _numbers_ had simply been far too big for their own good.

"And you're sure…" he continued, "…that there's _no __one_ originally from T-block here any more?"

Jin shook his head resolutely. "The kings have discussed it, but we never did figure out the reason. All of the original T-Block _numbers_ were moved out to other blocks at the time the leaders fell. Those of us here now have come from other blocks."

_So__ there__'__s__ no __one __left __who __would __recognise __Kaede __by __sight,_ Sendoh realised immediately. _Norio __obviously __knew __what __he __was __doing._

With a sigh he returned his attention to the file and continued to read. The rest of the first page listed Kaede's basic statistics in a table. Sendoh's eye trawled down the information. He read about martial status, blood type, history of disease and general state of health, eye colour, hair colour, and other vague facts until his eyes alighted upon the summary of his criminal record. He looked closer in interest.

Kaede, he read, had received an initial eight year sentence for illegal arms manufacturing which had then been extended, first to life, and then to death, on account of crimes later committed within the prison.

Sendoh lifted his head and gazed forward at the wall thoughtfully, mulling this over in his mind.

An eight year sentence. Even less than Sendoh's twelve. It seemed unpleasantly ironic. He pursed his lips.

Eight years, he knew, was no where near the maximum sentence for gun running. Then Kaede's felony must have been a comparatively minor one. Perhaps as an accessory of some kind. Probably caught up with the Inagawa-Kai yakuza somehow. Sendoh looked again at the photo. Definitely a young man - in fact he didn't even look eighteen - good looking, self-assured, not unintelligent. He had got himself tangled up in something he shouldn't have. Made some unwise decisions.

So - eight years, the law courts had decided. Eight years ought to have been enough to straighten him out. He would have been released at twenty-six. Younger, perhaps, if they'd let him go early. Plenty of time to get free of the yakuza and back on his feet.

Yes, they should have let him do his time, given him his punishment, and then… let him go. Let him have his freedom. Let him have the rest of his life. There had been a future for him, outside of this prison.

But.

_But…_

Something had happened. He had changed. He had turned. Into what?

Into a brutal leader of a dangerous prison faction. The list of convictions filled the majority of the page. Twelve counts of murder, thirteen of rape, twenty seven of battery and aggravated assault, six of which were against prison staff. Sendoh realised his fingers were trembling.

_Is__ this __your__ own__ fault?_ He wondered. _Is __this__ who__ you __really __are?_

_Or was it the prison that turned you into this?_

_Who?_

_Who was it that stole the future from you?_

His brows furrowed.

_Do you regret it?_

His eyes roamed down to the bottom of the page where the final statistics of Kaede's unhappy life were stamped in heavy black ink.

_If you could be born again…_

Born: 1st January 19XX  
><span>Died<span>: 27th October 20XX (_executed_)

…_would you meet the same fate?_

He crumpled his hands into fists against the paper.

"I don't understand this…" Jin said in a low voice, staring at the file blankly. "…it says he's dead. But… he's not."

Sendoh, with a force of effort, unclenched his hands. "Dead…?" he hesitated, and then gave a cold, ironic smile, "I guess even death has different shades."

"I've got it!" Kyota's sudden, cheerful exclamation interrupted Sendoh's brooding thoughts. Both he and Jin looked up to see Kyota gesturing with pleasure at a sheet of paper.

"The Tokyo Sect," Kyota read aloud, "are currently believed to have their main base in Shinjuku's Kabukicho, 29-11, 2-chome, purposefully placed in close proximity to their main rivals, the Sumiyoshi-Kai."

"Kabukicho" Sendoh repeated, trying to fix it in his memory, "29-11. 2-Chome."

"Says it's a hotel" Kyota added helpfully, peering at the paper. "The _Keio __Plaza_."

Sendoh nodded. "Okay, got it." He had to get this information to Kogure, and then could only hope that Kogure would be able to patch up the broken web of communication to get a message out somehow.

He snapped the folder before him shut resolutely. He didn't need or want to read any more. Sure of his resolution, and satisfied that they had got what they had come for, Sendoh set about replacing the binders exactly where he had found them, taking care to ensure that they did not look disturbed.

Then, as Jin and Kyota headed back towards the door, unable to resist trailing their fingers over the beautiful objects of the room as they went, Sendoh slid the bookshelves back into place. Still, as he did so his eyes became distracted by the row of books that had replaced them. Unable to resist he scanned their titles.

There was poetry by T., novels by Faulkner. Shakespeare and Johnson. Austin and Bronte. A dazzling array of classics and masters. Sendoh examined them, their unbent spines, pristine pages, and wondered if he'd dirty them if he dared to pick them up. They seemed to represent all of humanity. All the beautiful questions to ask. All the world from which he had been closed off. The world he no longer had the right to inhabit.

After a moment he decided to open one. Just one. Read a few words, perhaps, and remember what it was to be a human being. He chose an author he didn't recognise. The book was small, more like a notebook than a novel, old and bound in cracking leather. _Poems __of__ John __Donne_ the title page told him. There was a bookmark in one of the pages, and Sendoh flicked to it.

_To__ Sir __Henry __Wotton,_it said.

_SIR, more than kisses, letters mingle souls,  
>For thus, friends absent speak. This ease controls<br>The tediousness of my life ; but for these  
>I could ideate nothing which could please ;<br>But I should wither in one day, and pass  
>To a bottle of hay, that am a lock of grass.<em>

The elegant language seemed utterly alien, so unlike the grunts and crudity that passed for communication in the blocks. He pursed his lips. He couldn't say he understood it all. _The __tediousness __of__ my __life_ – well that at least struck a chord with him. _I__ should__ wither_ too. A lock of fresh grass becoming dry withered hay. He almost smiled, the more he read, the more sense he found. But as he moved on down the perfectly formed verses, a line made him stumble.

_Be then thine own home, and in thyself dwell._

He squinted at it. How oddly familiar the phrasing was to him. He wondered if it was coincidence. Guessing so, he read on. But then, and not five lines further down, he found it. It leapt at him like a fish so he almost dropped the book.

_Be thine own palace._

In surprise he gripped the page so hard his knuckles turned white. Those were Kaede's words. Printed there in ink, on yellowing sheets, where they'd been all along. They had been a quotation. No, Sendoh realised, they had been only _half_ a quotation, because the line continued;

_Be thine own palace, or all the world's thy jail._

"Oi," it was Kyota's voice again, calling his attention from by the door. "Aren't we done?" He made a face when Sendoh looked up at him in astonishment. "What's wrong with you? You look like you've seen a ghost."

His fingers trembling, Sendoh returned the book to its place on the shelf, wondering what to do next. He had… misunderstood. Kaede's words… he had never understood them. He had got it all wrong. It had never been a call to selfishness, a defence of prison life, a justification for animalistic survival. Instead it had been…

All at once he knew. He moved without thought or logic, only _knowing,_grasping with his hands and sliding the shelves aside once again with a bang. Quickly he reached up for the file.

"What now?" Jin, or perhaps Kyota, exclaimed at his sudden action, but Sendoh ignored everything. Thumping the file back down on the desk he tore it open fiercely and stared. Only vaguely familiar. The face was harder than he had expected. The chin more square, almost chiselled, brows thick, nearly meeting in the middle, giving him an intensely dark stare. He was not a good-looking man, Sendoh could see, his mouth scowled, his skin scarred, a deep sense of the danger in his cruel eyes. He looked, more so than anyone Sendoh had seen before, like a murderer. His unpleasantness was so tangible that Sendoh actually took half a step away from the picture.

But the resemblance. The resemblance was gone.

He looked up at Kyota and Jin, his eyes wide.

"This is Liron Kai" he told them firmly. Then, to their continued bemusement, he snapped the folder shut. "And I…" he hesitated and put his hands to his face as if feeling it, trying to see its contours with his fingers "…I am… in nobody's jail… except my own." He put the folder back and, under their incredulous stares, felt so much like laughing.

~tbc

ANs: Totally rushed this. Totally, totally. Might have to go back and fix it up again after Nano.

My user name for Nanowrimo, incidentally, is also Star7, so feel free to follow along as I try to write (OMG) original fiction! For the first time! In my Life! FEAR!

Visit nanowrimo (dot) org to get involved. See you in December!


	16. Chapter 16

Lots of people have mentioned being confused by the end of the last chapter. I don't want to spell everything out in black and white but I'll try and explain a little:

The phrase from John Donne's poem is "_Be__ thine__ own __palace,__ or__ all__ the__ world__'__s __thy __jail_." I read it to mean that we all create prisons for ourselves within our minds. The only way to freedom is to have faith and confidence in ourselves, or we will forever be confined by our own insecurities. You could say: the only real prison is the one we create for ourselves.  
>When Sendoh reads the full quote, he realises that Kaede cannot possibly see him as Liron Kai, because it would be a complete contradiction of his own advice. In light of this, he opens the file and proves himself right.<p>

I hope that clears up a little of the (rampant) confusion! Haha.

**Anita**: Hi! Thanks for your mid-nano support haha. Why don't you make an ffnet account so I can send you messages? It's quite maddening that I can't contact you!  
>Nano went okay. Yup, I absolutely did have a "Rukawa"-character lol. But he was the anti-social seme of the relationship heehee. There was no "Sendoh" in my story unfortunately.<p>

**Addicted****to****SD**: Hey! Thanks for another review! I hope the explanation about the "thing own" phrase makes things more clear. Nano was good! :D

**KagXmi**: Hi, welcome! Nice to see SD fans coming home again! Like you I've loved SD for _years_ lol. Glad you've enjoyed the story so far! (Somehow I feel like _enjoy_ is the wrong word for this fic… but never mind lol)

**darkhooded-angel**: Hi hun! Long time no see! I've tried to explain the quotation thing above. I hope it makes more sense now! Sorry for hurting your brain :( lol

**mrsklemzak**: Yikes – you are so right. I'm having a hard time justifying the _yaoi_ tag too. I'm never written non-yaoi before. I guess because this fic doesn't deal with a physical relationship as such. I still think Sendoh and Rukawa's closeness pushes into a kind of _love_ though. It's a tough one to call lol. Thanks for reading along!

**Happydownsouth**: Ah – I probably should put more Kyota in. I like his "lion-ness" too! Although he does get overshadowed by Jin quite a bit… I'll definitely try and give him his shining moment later on!

**Reodavle**: Hey – welcome back! I've tried to compare the numbers prison system and the current one in this chapter to put things into perspective. I wasn't expecting everything to go quite so political lol!  
>"<em>The<em>_ Numbers...__ They __feel__ so__ real__ you__ know.__ I __feel__ like__ a__ system __like__ that__ is__ existing__ somewhere_." It is very funny you should say that. The numbers are based on a real life prison gang of the same name. However the numbers gang in this fic is only loosely based on the real life gang. I've changed more than I've kept, but you know everything in this fic is rooted in fact ^.-

**Afuri**: Hi hi, nice to meet you! I'm glad you're reading along :) Yes it is pretty "heavy" lol. Glad that hasn't scared you off xD Thanks for reviewing!

**IttyBittyTidbits**: Girl, I thought you'd gone off and _died_ somewhere lol. Welcome back xD  
>Yikes, you got me. I guess I'll always be a Rukawa-fan. I'm trying to drag Sendoh to the front of this fic, but I can't seem to help myself! As for how the numbers gang communicates outside the prison… well to be honest it's giving me a headache too. I've kind of been following along with the RL numbers gang so far but I've kind of run into a wall since (and I quote the ever-knowledgeable Wikipedia on this): "The secretive nature of the gang makes their system of communicating to other prisons unknown. This is what makes them probably the most dangerous prison gang in the world."<br>Erk. Doesn't help me much lol! I have some theories. Let's see how it works out ._."

Without further ado… on with the fic!

* * *

><p><strong>Thine Own Palace<br>Chapter 16**

"Leave me a pin" were his parting words.

It was all so surreally familiar, Kaede's exhausted, broken body, the sharp smell of decay and waste, and the darkness. The ever present darkness.

Locking himself back into a cell was perhaps the most surreal thing he'd ever done. Every fibre of his body fought against it. He wanted to bolt. To run away. He could feel the tendrils of panic creeping at the edge of his mind, blackening his thoughts, trying to block out his reason and turning him into nothing more than a panicking animal.

But he refused himself, and knowing his own weaknesses, managed to somehow write himself out of his own paradox. It was illusion. No matter what he did, there was no freedom to be gained. No matter what he did, he wasn't going to escape the trials designed for him. Not yet, in any case.

Jin hesitated as he quietly closed the door, trapping Sendoh back in, putting the lock back into place as if it had never been released. As if their escapade had been nothing but a bizarre dream. Jin's eyes fell on Kaede's ever-bowed head – the boy hadn't moved, of course he hadn't – and then turned on Sendoh uncertainly.

"Will you…" he began, but stopped, making an effort to harden his eyes. His voice was uncertain, as if he was embarrassed to be admitting to have such sentiments at all. "If Norio really has it in for you…" he licked his lips nervously, "…there must be something we can do…"

Sendoh stared at him. It was strange to see Jin at such a complete loss. The urge to do something, but not knowing what. Not, Sendoh gathered, a characteristic that the brutal twenty threes had been known for. But then again, Jin had never been long without the support of a powerful gang. Either the _numbers_ or the _kings_, Jin's time in prison had been comparatively sheltered by the reassurance that things could be done. That reality didn't have to be so harsh. That someone would _rescue_ them. That they could _do_ things. In Jin's mind, prisoners had some degree of control over their environment. In Sendoh's experience, they didn't.

"I'll be ok" he replied resignedly. There wasn't any sense in fighting this part of the inevitable. If he had to lose one battle in order to win a greater war, then that was all there was to it. He wouldn't back down from it when it came.

Jin still seemed reluctant to leave, like he was still cycling through hopeless possibilities in his mind. Sendoh wondered why. Why on earth would someone like this bother with someone like him? This Jin: perhaps the second most powerful individual in a highly successful gang. He had influence over Maki, and the hopeless dedication of Kyota. He'd wrangled his way through gang politics long before Sendoh had entered this prison. Jin's situation was secure and comparatively safe. He seemed self-assured and capable. What business, then, did he have concerning himself with Sendoh like this?

Or… was it because of Kaede?

_No_, Sendoh thought with a frown, _that__'__s__ not__ it_. Jin had no interest in Kaede. He probably only saw him as one already broken. Instead Jin's eyes were fixed surely now on Sendoh, staring in curiosity.

Maybe it seemed bizarre, Sendoh thought, that someone could seem so composed before the prospect of Norio's attention. But then, he knew it was because it was simple, and because it was inevitable. If he could just hold himself together like Kaede did then – he was sure – he could survive this. Yes, at the very least, he would _survive_.

Jin's incomprehension reminded Sendoh suddenly of his own confusion over Jin's personality earlier in the night. The sensation of looking at a person whose position and thinking were so thoroughly unlike his that they might have been each other's antithesis. Someone he just couldn't figure out, no matter how hard he tried. Did he appear that way to Jin too?

"You're strong" Jin acknowledged after a moment, his cold, calculating stare not warming, but still there was respect in his words. "You don't look it, but you are."

_And __you__'__re __dangerous_ Sendoh countered in his mind, _though__ you__ don__'__t__ look__ it,__ either._

Jin eyed flickered over to Kaede once again, the stooped and sorry shadow of the boy still crumpled at the bottom of his imprisoning shaft. Perhaps the greatest illusion of all.

Jin's eyes narrowed as he glared at Kaede with obvious dislike. His features flickered into a brief sneer, and Sendoh was reminded that, from Jin's perspective, Kaede had failed him. One of the leaders who had allowed their all-powerful gang to be so devastatingly crushed. Jin stared for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he only turned away with a rough grimace and a shrug.

Sendoh stood still by the cold bars and watched him go, Kyota trailing obediently along behind. They left through the same old exterior doors, slipping out into the night to make their way back to their own cells.

Alone again and the quiet seemed to expand around him, like he was suddenly the only person in the world. Absolute solitude. Though of course, it wasn't so.

He turned around to face Kaede and saw for the first time that the boy was looking at him. Not asleep, nor lost in his patient meditations of calm, but awake and alive and looking at him with eyes that were bright with intelligence. He looked like he was thinking. And although nothing had changed in Kaede's world, Sendoh's outlook was all too irreconcilably different. It was as if he were standing static and still at the centre of a world that had begun to move and twist out of focus, warping into a stranger version of itself. But in reality, of course, he was the only one who had changed.

He knew things now. He couldn't afford to be so naïve any more.

He had known all along that the prison population had a hatred for the _numbers_ system, although he himself had seen it as something so full of promise. After all, he didn't think there could have been anything worse than what they had now. This pathetic tribal system, so primitive; small groups squabbling together over the tiniest patches of so-called territory – just a bench in the dining hall, or a corner of the shower room. A place where only the physically strong survived, and the rest were enslaved. A system that empowered only a few, and liberated no one at all. A system where they turned on one another, distracted from their common enemy by petty squabbles among themselves.

Yes, Sendoh realised, when Norio had destroyed the _numbers_ he'd done it not with the intention of protecting the prisoners, but with the intention of protecting _himself_. The current system of small gangs and riders wasn't only tolerated, it was actively encouraged, because it made the prisoners weak while it made the guards strong.

Compare that to the prison under the _numbers_. An utterly ruthless police state. On the surface, and in theory, it worked beautifully. It had served to unite prisoners into one efficient army, all marching the same way, giving them power, even over the guards. But it had operated only through a culture of fear. Those that hadn't agreed with the _numbers_ methods had been seen as enemies to eliminate. The system had only worked by stripping everyone of their freedoms and subjecting them to absolute law and vicious punishments. It created powerful dictators who kept the majority safe at the brutal expense of a few. Some might argue there was value in that. Others – and he thought of Sakuragi - would find it thoroughly abhorrent.

Sendoh didn't know on which side of the fence he sat with it all any more, but fortunately the need to decide had already been taken away from him. The _numbers_ were already gone. There was no need to pick and choose his sides.

But still the fact remained that he didn't know if there would ever be a way to normalise prison society. Would it ever be possible for prisons to exist that weren't so brutal, nor so violent? Institutions that pledged to redeem their inmates instead of embroiling them only ever deeper into inescapable sin. It wasn't right - anyone could see that - but problems were always so much easier to see than solutions.

Kaede's eyes, staring up at him, seemed to be asking all these questions. Sendoh had no answers as to why this one boy should be forced to bear the brunt of this entire messed up system.

Irritated with himself, with Kaede, Norio, and with the state of everything, Sendoh stepped forward with one of Kyota's precious pins in his hand, determined to change just one thing at least. At the very least, he could do that much.

He crouched down and set to work on the handcuffs that kept Kaede in place. As he worked he wondered how Kaede saw these things. Did he condone the methods the _numbers_ had used? Had he ever thought there might be another way of doing things? It was hard to say. With Kaede nothing was logical. He saw the world in colours that Sendoh didn't see. His large, light-deprived eyes saw shadows that Sendoh couldn't begin to imagine.

But then, even Kaede had something he wanted to protect. He must have. Sendoh screwed up his eyes and summoned the courage to ask.

"Kaede?" He broke the silence nervously, "Please answer me something."

Kaede turned his head slightly to the side in response, revealing the delicate shell of his ear to Sendoh's eyes. Perhaps the only part of him that seemed to have escaped any scarring. Perfectly formed, delicate folds of white skin that seemed so milk innocent. So childish and naïve, this little shell of skin. It was weird.

"What are you trying to protect?" Sendoh spoke to that ear, imagining that he was speaking to the past. Imagining Kaede as a child, with his soft-white skin and spread of hopeful futures.

The handcuffs gave way before Sendoh's quick, skilled fingers. Gently, aware of the pain the metal caused when it rubbed against Kaede's ruined wrists, he removed them and tossed them uselessly aside.

Kaede let out his breath in a rush of relief and moved his arms gingerly, his cramped muscles clearly paining him. Just this tiny respite and Sendoh felt grateful for it. Every moment of this boy's life was spent in discomfort and pain. Why, then, did he hold on? Why did he still refuse to give way? Surely there was no loyalty worth this?

Kaede moved with aching slowness away from the post. He tried to ease his neck and wrists carefully, but it was obvious he was hurt. His muscles were trembling with exhaustion, Sendoh noticed, so much so that he could barely sit upright.

Sendoh made as if to move to his side but Kaede's fierce glare stayed him, warding off the attempt at help, his pride already injured by his feebleness. Sendoh only watched, then, as Kaede lowered himself gently to the floor so he could lie down and rest, dragging in each breath as if it were hard to do.

Sendoh waited a moment before crawling towards him and sitting down beside him, close to his head, crossing his legs on the floor and reaching out to brush long locks of fringe out of Kaede's face.

It must have been a pleasantly unobtrusive contact for Kaede, for he closed his eyes as if enjoying Sendoh's soothing feather touch in spite of himself.

"Well?" Sendoh continued after a moment, "What are you trying to protect that you'd do this to yourself?"

Kaede's eyes fluttered open again and he stared past Sendoh's soft fingers to the ceiling as if trying to remember. Sendoh waited a long time, but Kaede didn't speak.

"Why..." Sendoh prompted "...why don't you just give Norio the codes?"

He was aware, even as he said it, that Norio couldn't have scripted it better himself. He was aware that, perhaps in some ways such a question might be helping Norio in his quest to break this boy. A sick snap of psychology. But, he justified it to himself, he wasn't asking on Norio's behalf - nor was he asking rhetorically, in an effort to persuade Kaede to give up. No, Sendoh was asking because he felt finally that it was his right to know. He was deep in this now, whether he or Kaede liked it or not.

"I don't know what Norio will do to me" he admitted when Kaede still didn't reply, "but whatever it is, don't I deserve to know what I'm suffering for?"

Kaede's eyes slid over to him, slightly unfocused, a little confused, and Sendoh knew he was at least making headway.

"Tell me" he coaxed, dropping his voice to a low, desperate whisper. "Is it Stanley? Is it Liron? Who are you trying to protect?"

Kaede took a thin breath like a rattle before replying. "Nothing" he said unsteadily. "Nothing. Only… myself."

Sendoh's fingers stopped their motion, coming to rest gently against Kaede's forehead as he tried to make sense of that. Protecting… himself? How could that possibly be the case?

Probably realising that Sendoh didn't understand, Kaede sighed breathlessly and continued quietly. "If I tell them…" he explained, "…they'll kill me."

Sendoh frowned. That, while senseless, was at least true. It was obvious that Kaede's continuing existence was a legal transgression supposedly known only to those who had brought it about. Once they had what they needed, it stood to reason that they'd have to destroy Kaede to mask their wrongdoings.

But still...

"Wouldn't you prefer death, to this?" Sendoh queried in astonishment.

After all, this was not surviving. This was just a terrible, terrible way to die.

Kaede looked up at him with tired eyes. ""Do you really think" he said with shuddering slowness, "that being... a twenty three... was less painful... than this?"

Sendoh's mouth hung open in protest, but there was nothing he could say.

"You..." Kaede continued, in slight accusation, "...who knows just what it means to fear the monster you are becoming? Don't you... understand that?"

Sendoh only stared at him in astonishment as Kaede's words cut through him.

He realised that that he had become caught up so deeply in Kaede's story that he'd nearly forgotten his own. How he'd agonised. How he'd hated himself, cursed himself, how fiercely had he tried to quash his natural compassion, how he'd tortured himself into violence. How... the things he had done... had failed to do... were pale, were nothing, were positively angelic in the face of Kaede's crimes.

How the physical pain of a broken body sank back, receded, collapsed before the monstrous agonies of a soul torn to pieces again, and again, and again.

_Absolution_.

_He sees this as absolution for the things he has done._

Sendoh squeezed his eyes closed.

_Being a twenty-three was just a way to survive. Enduring this… is just the same. To him. Freedom, imprisonment, it's all the same thing. Just another kind of pain._

The depth of such a psychology astonished him.

"Why me?" he blurted finally, his fingers trailing their way in gentle mesmerisation over Kaede's skin, fluttering their way over his jaw, brushing against his neck, barely aware of what he was doing. "Why… out of everyone… is it me?"

Kaede stared passively up at him. "You remind me of someone."

"Liron?" Sendoh breathed, his eyes widening, forgetting for the moment that his connection with Liron had been of nothing but his own making.

A soft snort of derision followed this unexpected and foolish remark. Sendoh stared in offended astonishment as amusement filled Kaede's eyes. His breathing became unsteady as, Sendoh realised, he tried not to laugh. "_Liron_?" he echoed, as if it were the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard.

Sendoh couldn't help be offended by this merciless dismissal of the idea. What was _so_ amusing about his being compared to Liron Kai anyway? He glowered unhappily as Kaede clutched his own ribs as the rising chuckles hurt his bruised chest.

"Idiot" he gasped between short breaths. "Not fucking Liron. _Me_. You remind me of myself."

Sendoh was finally forced to relax his tense expression in the face of Kaede's open laughter. Eventually, as Kaede quietened again, he dropped his head down, touching Kaede's forehead against his own contentedly and sighed.

"_Fuck_" he said.

It summed up everything. His hopelessness, this ridiculousness, his shame, the agony of realising that he was sitting with a person who he cared about, wanted to share his time with, wanted to _be_ with, and the hell of realising nothing could ever come of it. That they were doomed before they had even begun.

_To imagine I would find you here. Here. Of all places._

_Why not four years earlier?_

_Why didn't I find you before we both went wrong?_

Kaede stared quietly up at him without any answers.

"_Fuck_" he said again, louder this time.

What the hell else was there to say?

* * *

><p>"I thought we had a deal, Maki."<p>

Maki looked up bored from where he sat on a bunk against the wall. It was early morning, and he was still in one of the isolation cells, just a one-man concrete cage with an uncomfortable bunk and an ice cold toilet rim. He'd been stuck in here all night with nothing to do and was hardly the best of moods. Still he sat up a little straighter as Norio sauntered confidently into the room.

The man closed the cell door behind him and approached, apparently alone, apparently unarmed, and leant against the opposite wall, facing Maki and folding his arms.

Maki only looked up at him blankly.

"I thought we had a deal" Norio repeated, staring at him.

Maki's lips turned into a rough sneer, "what are you talking about?"

"I gave you T block," Norio said, his voice heavy with parental disappointment, "gave you space to do whatever you wanted, turned a blind eye to your transgressions."

Maki stared on at him, "yeah, and?"

"And in return," Norio continued coldly, "all you had to do was keep the remaining numbers under control. Is that not the case?"

"I have no idea what you're complaining about" Maki replied equally frostily. "And what the fuck is up with you just barging in and locking me in here, making me look a fool in front of the entire gang? What the hell have I done?"

"Last night" Norio interrupted him, sidestepping the question, "two of your boys went walkabout after lock down. Do you want to explain to me why that was?"

Maki shrugged dismissively, "they were probably looking for _me_."

"Wrong" Norio hissed angrily, his eyes suddenly narrowing dangerously. "They went in a perfect bee line for the quarantine block where I am keeping a particularly delicate guest, as you well know."

Maki went momentarily pale, but then rallied his courage to bite back a dismissive, "I have no idea. I never told them to do that."

"No?" Norio sneered. "Am I right then to assume that you _don__'__t_ have control over your own gang?"

Maki's jaw set hard with anger as he glared fiercely up at Norio, looking dearly like he wanted to hurl an insult.

Norio leaned forward in fearless intimidation; "as the former leader of the B block twenty-eights I had assumed you were qualified for this little task. Perhaps I was wrong?" He smiled broadly at Maki who looked more furious by the minute. "Perhaps I ought to... reconsider your privileges?"

"No. I'll..." Maki fought back his anger in the effort to reply. He had his pride, but even he was capable of seeing when it was necessary to back down. This wasn't a battle Maki could possibly win. His voice cracked with resignation. "…I'll find out what happened."

Apparently pleased with this answer Norio straightened, his angry demeanour seeming to evaporate in an instant. But Maki knew him well enough to guess that there was more to come.

"That fish-eyed bitch of yours" Norio continued casually, "what's his name?"

Maki hardened his jaw and replied in a reluctant hiss through his teeth "…Jin."

"That's right – _Jin_." Norio looked thoughtful. "He's never sat comfortably with the idea of cooperating with me, has he? You shouldn't have made him your student. Twenty threes always cause trouble." Maki stared up at him defiantly, and Norio smiled with cold pleasure as he said; "Get rid of him."

Maki choked. "_What?_"

"Get rid of him" Norio said again. "Kick him out of the gang. Kill him if you have to. I don't care how you do it, just fucking take care of it."

Maki rose from his seat, suddenly unable to hold back his fury, "Fuck you!" he spat angrily, "I've done what you've asked me to do. I don't owe you any favours. Jin is mine, don't you fucking touch him."

"You need to discipline your subordinates, Maki" Norio interrupted fiercely, his eyes narrowed to mere slits, "or else I might have to discipline _you_."

Maki bit his lip to try and keep his anger in check. Norio fixed him with a final ferocious stare that left Maki in no doubt of his anger, and without further instructions, simply turned and left, slamming the cell door behind him as he went.

Maki collapsed back onto the bunk, his whole body trembling with adrenaline, the only noise in the suddenly ringing silence were his breaths filling the room.

"_Shit_" he swore.

~tbc

ANs: Yes, monosyllabic swear words are a theme in this chapter.


	17. Chapter 17

**KagXmi: **Haha torturing Mitsui is always fun :) Uh – a fight between Norio and Maki? Well, in a fist-fight I'm sure Maki would win haha, he's a twenty-eight after all xD Thanks so much for your review ^.^

**Addicted to SD: **Yeah Norio is a pretty nasty piece of work. He only gets worse in this chapter /sigh ._. Thanks so much for your continued support ^^

**Anita: **"The calm before the storm" – your predictions are pretty accurate! You wonder what I have in mind for Sendoh? You'll probably wish you hadn't by the end of this one Thanks for another review! :D

**Last Rebirth**: Ah, I think Jin is pretty cool too :D I'm glad you're enjoying the Kainan bits – never really written about them before so it's all rather experimental on my side lol. Thanks for reviewing!

**Reodavle**: Hey hun, nice to see you ^^ Glad you're enjoying it. Yes, the "romance" is a little tricky in this one, I'm doing my best (*pulls an agonised face* hahahaha) Hope you're well :)

**Tidbits**: Hey~ :D Ugh, I'm glad you hate Norio but I'm concerned you're gonna hate _me_ after reading this one lol! My apologies in advance? /nervousness.

**Thine Own Palace**

**Chapter 17**

**(Warnings: **More torture. Yes really.**)**

Maki stalked the corridor back to the third wing like he had a headache. A guard he hadn't recognised had shown up and let him out of isolation a couple of hours after Norio had left him. The interim being plenty of time, it had turned out, to stew unhappily in his pot of blackmail. So what now? He dragged his feet, all the while knowing that no amount of delay was going to change things. He had to act. But… to do what?

Lose Jin? Well. Wasn't that easy to say aloud? Just another task that needed doing.

The truth was that even if he had wanted to do as Norio asked, it was not quite that simple. Gangs had politics. Delicate politics. He wasn't so secure in his position, nor deity enough, to think he could simply chuck Jin out of the gang without repercussions. His authority would be destabilised. He'd be sticking his hand into a blender. The others would notice, would say 'what if it's me next?' and begin to lose trust in him.

And without the support of a gang, he would be nothing more than another sorry rat in this place. Worse that a rat. Being able to fight wasn't enough. Not for him. Not when you had the number twenty eight on your back. Marked out to die.

However, he tried to reason with himself, those of them that were former numbers had to stick together. There was no other way to survive. He had a duty to maintain the group, to protect it, for their sake as much as his own. He needed them and they needed him. His begrudging obedience to Norio was what had kept them safe all this time. There was no way he could let the gang die for the sake of one boy. Not for that pitiful Rukawa Kaede, or that upstart Sendoh. Not even, though it made him sick to think of it, for Jin.

He let his breath out in a shuddering sigh. Jin's presence had become a threat to the gang. He had to do what Norio demanded. There simply wasn't any choice. Though he hated it, and hated himself for it, there was too much at stake. He couldn't risk bringing Norio's wrath down on everyone.

But still the fact remained that it would be extremely difficult for him to extradite Jin from the gang. They were too close, too tight, they had been partners for so long. His own elegant, dangerous Jin. Maki gnawed at his own lip in indecision.

He was still undecided over as he turned into the familiar corridor that was the undisputed territory of the _kings_ and met Kyota in his usual place, keeping quiet watch.

Kyota's eyes immediately widened as he saw who was approaching, and the boy sprang to his feet from where he'd been slouched against the wall. There was guilt written all over his handsome face at being caught slacking off.

"M-Maki-sama!" He exclaimed, "You're back."

Maki looked at him thoughtfully. Kyota. Kyota was an obedient dog. Close to Jin, perhaps a little too close, perhaps a little too… adoring. If Jin left, Maki guessed, Kyota would probably go with him. Would anyone else break off to follow Jin? Maki tried to think it through. The boy was quiet, not really the type to lead and yet, he had an interesting kind of presence. Even Maki would admit that Jin was perhaps the most sharp-witted of them all. Unassuming but undoubtedly dangerous. Twenty-threes, he recalled, were usually like that. They didn't tend to lead from the front, but held the reins behind the scenes.

Maki carried on past without a word, his mind too preoccupied to pay attention to Kyota quickly falling into step just behind him. Maki moved on down the corridor towards the large eight-man cell that constituted the heart of his territory. It was only, he remembered, because Norio allowed them to eat here that they had managed to escape competing for space in the dining hall, had managed to hide and preserve themselves. They were the outcasts, the public enemy, yet they were surviving. He tried to tell himself again that that was the most important thing. That Norio's blanket of immunity was the most valuable thing they had.

He turned into the cell and all sound of conversation immediately died. All eyes turned on him. They were sat in their usual places - they'd always been quite territorial about the bunks they sat on. Still, the central and most prominent bunk belonged to Maki. It was his throne, though he shared the space with Jin. That wasn't because he wanted to give Jin any authority, quite the inverse in fact. He did it because he knew no one could make a mistake in the matter. Maki was the teacher, Jin was the student, and no member of the numbers or the kings could ever make the mistake of believing them to be equal even if they shared the same seat.

He glanced round at them now, the men who formed the core of his gang. They were all survivors of the numbers fall. They were all uniquely spectacular. All different numbers, different tattoos, brought under the same single leader finally. It made sense. It worked.

He prepared himself to address them, greet them and account for the hours he'd been missing. He planned to grill them over the bizarre news Norio had told him - find out who had been foolish enough to step into Norio's private domain, and whip some fear back into them. He even opened his mouth to begin.

But then he noticed… they weren't looking at him.

Their eyes had turned away and focused instead on the boy who sat in his seat. There was tension in the air like you could feel on your shoulders. Something, Maki realised immediately, was going on. Kyota, who had stepped into the doorframe behind him, no longer seemed like his escort, but more like an ominous presence at his back, filling the space and blocking his retreat.

Sensing the tiny changes in the air, Maki's heart beat sped up as if in anticipation for a fight. His hands became hot and clenched into instinctive fists.

"What's going on?" He demanded, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

They were all looking towards Jin as if expecting him to speak on their behalf. For some reason that bothered Maki most of all. He, too, found himself looking at Jin.

"Welcome back" Jin said silkily.

Maki waited but Jin did nothing more than smile.

Wondering if perhaps he was imagining the strange atmosphere, Maki decided to ignore it and carry on, perhaps to regain some command over the situation.

"I've been in isolation" he said by way of explanation, "for twenty four hours. I don't know why."

His eyes flickered around the gathered faces only to realise they were still distracted by something, even though he was speaking, as if their minds were all preoccupied.

Annoyed, he spoke louder, more forcefully, "Norio came to see me while I was there."

That seemed to catch their attention. Norio's name was usually enough to put most people on their guard. They looked towards him, finally giving him their attention, though Jin still carried on his thoughtless smile.

"Seems some of you took it upon yourselves to fuck with things you had no business with last night" Maki began his angry sermon, letting his eyes and brow darken, hoping to draw out their fear. He was a strong man, an excellent fighter, powerful but fast. Confident in his fists, he knew there wasn't a person in this room who could match him in a fight, and they all knew it too. A leader of the twenty eights, he drew himself upright as if to remind them all of it. He was bigger, stronger, more experienced. He was their leader for good reason.

"Who was it?" He demanded, glaring at them, expecting to have to lash a confession out of them.

Jin, his lips still upturned, put his hand brazenly into the air. "It was me."

Maki floundered only for the shortest of seconds. _So this is why_, he realised, _Norio suddenly wants him dealt with_. He turned his threatening eyes on his student, but the smile did not cease. Maki steeled himself. Already he knew something was up. Instinct told him he could not afford to lose this battle of wills.

"You fucking fool." Maki barked, his voice sounding like thunder in this small room. He stepped across the floor in two long, menacing strides, seizing Jin by the collar and dragging him up off the bed angrily. Jin's familiar, bird-like lightness hardly taxed his arms at all. "You've fucked us over big time," he hissed, livid. "Norio isn't going to let this go. Do you want to see the kings destroyed?"

Even as he raged, guilt was pooling in Maki's gut. He knew what he was doing, how he was attempting to manipulate the situation. How sad it was that he already hoped that this was going to resolve itself so easily. How hopeful he was that this was all he needed to get Jin out of the way, as Norio had demanded.

He knew it was unfair to pin all the blame on Jin, to refuse to give the protection that Jin, more than anyone, deserved, yet he had no choice. Although it was agony, he could not stop. He knew he had to do it.

His heart ached as Jin's fine, elegant limbs dangled with such helpless grace that Maki felt fiercely jealous of his delicate body. It was his. Jin belonged to him. His valuable companion for so many years now. The urge to protect him, to defend him, rose and fell in Maki like waves. But, he told himself sternly, he should count himself lucky that Jin's expulsion should be as easy as this.

Or at least it might have been, if Jin's eyes had brimmed with suppliant fear as they were meant to. If he'd trembled under the fire of Maki's tyranny.

He didn't, though. The smile never slipped from his face.

Maki sucked in his breath. Something was wrong, everything was wrong, like reality had twisted out of recognition. All at once the walls seemed to spin around him, and all he could see was the upturned slope of Jin's unbroken lips. It horrified him. His mind reeled with the irrational, feeling like he was looking into the face of a madman, or a ghost, and Maki panicked. The air of change panicked him.

Suddenly afraid, he drew back his fist and struck Jin so hard the fabric was wrenched out of his grip and Jin lost his balance on the edge of the bed, crashing down to the floor at Maki's feet.

Maki was breathing hard. Adrenaline was flooding him. He stared down at his own fist. He had never struck Jin before. There was sweat on his forehead and, trembling, he wiped it away. The moist and clammy trails of his own weaknesses. The evidence of how this was tearing him up inside.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

Maki looked down at the hurt figure at his feet who had spoken. Jin's head was bowed, his hand against his beautiful bruised cheek. His voice was soft, almost mournful, as if he, too, were torn by Maki's agonies.

Then Jin moved away, gathering himself back onto his feet and retreating to the centre of the room so their positions were reversed, Maki regaining control of the throne, Jin alone and isolated in the centre of the floor.

"Tell you what?" Maki managed to sneer, throwing into his voice every last drop of contempt he could manage. Desperate to hide his tearing heart, his fiercely burning pain.

Jin looked up at him. The smile was gone now. The surety, the arrogance. The sting of this betrayal had wiped it away, but it had been replaced by something else. A cool resolution, a grimness, an acceptance. As if he knew, like Maki did, that sacrifices had to be made. That nothing could last forever.

The look caught Maki off guard for he was struck, more powerfully than he could have anticipated, with the sensation that he was looking into a mirror.

Yes, he realised at that moment, Jin's expression mirrored his perfectly.

"Why didn't you tell us" Jin continued, his eyes more beautiful than Maki had ever seen them, "about Kaede Rukawa?"

There was a long moment of silence. What? Maki's mind struggled to understand Jin's words. _What_? The world seemed to stop for an instant. It couldn't be possible. Maki's brow creased up in confusion. How…?

"You know who he is, don't you? You've always known."

Maki stared at Jin in disbelief. All the eyes in the room were upon him now. Silently criticising him. Judging him.

Maki sucked his breath in with a sudden hiss as it became clear to him. He had been… tricked. Jin had already arranged this. Jin had planned this. Maki's blood ran cold as he came to understand finally.

_I am the one who is being betrayed._

The world shrunk around him.

"I don't know what you're talking about" Maki tried to snarl, but already his voice had lost some of its resonance.

"That he is the leader of the twenty threes" Jin continued calmly. "One of the six who still lives. I've seen the proof of it myself. But you… you already knew. You _must_ have known, because you were a leader. You were second only to Liron Kai himself. You are the only one here who had direct contact with the six." Jin's eyes had turned hard as he stared Maki down ruthlessly, "Are you going to try and deny it? Will you pretend you had never heard the name Kaede Rukawa before?"

Maki's throat felt tight like someone was strangling him. His toes curled in his shoes. He wanted to rage at Jin, condemn him for this mutiny, but looking around him now he saw only the faces of enemies, and he knew it was necessary for him to answer these charges. "I..." he began, trying to sound more sure of himself than he really felt, "...yes I knew the name. But I had never seen him before. I only guessed who Norio's prisoner was, I wasn't sure."

"But you didn't bother to share with us your suspicion?" Jin accused him quietly.

Maki narrowed his eyes. "What difference would it make?" he snapped angrily. "The numbers were already gone. The kings were already established, growing stronger all the time. Do you really think one boy could change anything? Do you really think he could have just waltzed in here and turned everything back to the way it used to be? Don't be so fucking naive. Kaede Rukawa is broken. Useless. There's nothing he can do. And we aren't numbers anymore, we are kings. We don't owe him our loyalty."

"We are numbers" Jin contradicted quietly, his words like an echoing whisper playing in the air. Softer, much gentler than Maki's loud and angry voice, yet somehow it seemed to settle more heavily upon the gathered gang mates who watched the war between the past and the present silently. "It is only you who are Norio's dog."

Maki would have rushed him then. Would have leapt at him and beaten him into the floor in a rage if it hadn't been for the other members of the gang who rose to their feet, clearly intending to protect Jin from the outlash of Maki's fury.

And Jin, quite apart from shrinking back from Maki's anger, only stood taller, and spoke louder. "Kaede Rukawa is a flag," he declared assuredly. "A flag we would have rallied around, that we _will_ rally around. Of course you're right; he is powerless on his own. But all he needed was a general. Someone strong enough to take up his banner. Someone to fight on his behalf and to whom he in turn could have entrusted himself, his strength, the entire legacy of the numbers. Think of the power he would have given us. And you..." Jin's eyes were suddenly full of sorrow, "...it should have been you, Maki. You should have been that general."

Maki's mouth was open in astonishment. They were all looking at him gravely, with disappointment, as if he had failed them. HE! He, who had kept them safe, kept them alive, for all this time. He stared at Jin, unable to understand what was happening. But those gentle, blood-drenched eyes were without mercy. A twenty three. Norio's words hummed in his ears. Always causing trouble.

And Maki knew he was defeated. Knew that despite everything, his strength, his experience, the number on his back already marked him out to fail. The twenty eights, he realised, ruled only superficially, with showy strength and heavy fists. But the numbers had always, always been steered at the core by that one small sect - the twenty threes. Jin had become the true leader of the kings long before Maki had ever realised.

Still, he had to bite back. He had to try, at least, to claim the final word. So he tried to scoff in derision. "What?" He mocked in amusement. "What do you think _you_ can do? Be his knight in shining armour? A weakling like you couldn't inspire a single person to follow you. Don't make me laugh. No one will support you."

Jin smiled softly and shook his head. "No, not me."

Anger rose rapidly in Maki like a flare. Would he really lose? Here, like this? Would he lose to that naïve, silver-tongued boy he'd only met so briefly? It didn't seem possible. It didn't seem right. How could Jin possibly chose an outsider over someone like Maki who'd been with him and protected him and adored him right from the start?

"Sendoh Akira is not a number" Maki barked out finally, his panic and desperation becoming visible on his face. "He's only in it for himself. He isn't one of us. He will betray you!"

Jin only stared on impassively. Some of the larger members of the gang stepped forward, intending to manhandle Maki out of the room, throw him out and upon the mercy of those that would kill him, but Jin did not move. He only watched, thoughtful, his fingers lifting up to run in nervous patterns over his soft lips, chewing on them irresolutely. When he spoke he could have spoken for the whole group. He could have said 'we'. But he didn't. For Jin, as for Maki, this went beyond gang politics and prison warfare. So he spoke not for the gathered gang members, but for himself. And although his eyes on Maki were cold, his voice was immeasurably sad.

"I have already been betrayed."

* * *

><p>Mitsui was pushing away cloth and hands in disbelieving relief.<p>

"You're okay" he muttered like he was speaking a magic spell, like he hardly dared believe it. "You're okay."

He was trembling. Trembling like he hadn't seen him in weeks, even as his hands moved over the bruises and scars that always caused a rush of guilt in him, reminding him of the times he hadn't been there to protect so precious and fragile a thing as this. And yet somehow... somehow they'd come though this. And he had been sure, had been utterly convinced that it had been the end. That Norio was finally going to separate them permanently, and yet, here he was, his gentle-eyed Kiminobu, no worse for wear for the night they'd spent apart. Mitsui dragged him into a fierce embrace as if he would never let him go.

"Hisashi" the smaller boy protested, trying to wriggle free, "I can't breathe."

"I'm sorry" Mitsui found himself apologising all over again, the way he always did whenever Kogure was returned to him after being 'borrowed'. How ferociously he wished he didn't have to make the same apologies over and over again. How he wished he could do more to protect the one thing he truly treasured. "Next time I... Next time I won't let them. I won't let them. I'm so sorry, Kimi, I'm so sorry."

He would have carried on if Kogure had not managed to push him away.

"I'm fine" he repeated severely, "no one touched me. I was just kept in a cell overnight until they let me go."

Mitsui moved back a step, but couldn't seem to release his grip on Kogure's forearms. "Me too" he replied. "They didn't even ask me anything."

Kogure gave him a weak, rare smile. "That's a relief."

Mitsui returned the smile a little uncertainly. Somehow it seemed too lucky to be true. Somehow it felt like they had missed something significant.

They sat in silence for a while, glad to be reunited yet still feeling inexplicably uneasy. Mitsui attempted to break the discomfort in the air by placing adoring kisses at the corner of Kogure's lips. When Kogure turned his head slightly to meet Mitsui's lips, Mitsui deftly slipped his hand into Kogure's waistband and began to stroke him gently. Kogure sighed and closed his eyes, melting against Mitsui's chest contentedly, relishing the feeling of safety Mitsui always gave him, but somehow still unable to shake his feeling of nervousness. He tried to concentrate on the soothing movement of Mitsui's hand, driving the concerns from his mind. After a while he reached for Mitsui's fly but Mitsui, as always, pushed his hand away.

"Students serve their teachers" he muttered the same old line he always did. "Not the other way around."

"But I want to..." Kogure tried to protest, but it was an argument he'd lost too many times already. He knew Mitsui would do almost anything for him, and yet he had never done the one thing Kogure expected. In his wretched role as a gang rider, Kogure had been painfully abused, forced into sex with more men than he could count. But Mitsui? Mitsui had never taken anything from him. Mitsui was always only giving. Sometimes Kogure wondered if it was because Mitsui thought he was somehow... dirty. At other times he knew that it was for another reason entirely.

As it was, he was stuck enduring Mitsui's adoring subservience while never having the opportunity to show how deeply he desired to return it. Now he only sighed and lent back against the wall, making no more protest as Mitsui dropped his head into Kogure's lap, pulling down his waistband and soothing him with his hot, eager mouth. With a long breathy sigh, Kogure meshed his fingers into Mitsui's hair and shuddered, feeling Mitsui's willing throat expand and then contract tightly around him. He was lucky, he thought to himself. Really. He was really quite lucky.

He allowed himself to melt into a gentle trance, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure.

He nearly smashed his head against the concrete wall, however, when a figure appeared unexpectedly in the doorway.

"Fuck" Mitsui reacted with his usual speed, snapping back with surprise and leaving Kogure to pull up his clothes with a furious blush.

"For fuck's sake" Mitsui hissed angrily at the newcomer. "What the fuck do _you_ want?"

"Maki?" Kogure exclaimed at the same time.

He looked awful. His eyes were wide, spooked, like he'd seen a ghost. His couldn't seem to focus, shifting his gaze around continuously as if expecting enemies to leap suddenly from no where. He stepped into the small cell in a daze.

"Is he..." He murmured indistinctly, "...is he here?"

Kogure and Mitsui exchanged surprised glances.

"Who?" Kogure queried.

Maki stared at them as if they were mad. "Sendoh" he snapped with sudden ferocity, "Sendoh fucking Akira."

"Sendoh?" Kogure repeated, rapidly paling. He shared a quick, guilty glance with Mitsui. They had completely forgotten about Sendoh. Mitsui shifted in embarrassment.

"He's…" Kogure tried to reply, "…he's not here. We haven't seen him."

If they wanted to ask Maki what he was doing here alone, the wild, slightly unbalanced look in his eye convinced them not to.

"Then," Maki concluded bluntly, "Norio has him."

The words sounded like a cold condemnation. A logical yet awful verdict. The realisation that Sendoh could be enduring what they had so luckily escaped abruptly dawned on them.

Without further comment, Maki sat heavily on the opposite bunk and put his head in his hands.

"I hope he's okay" Kogure could only mutter in a strangely hollow voice, guilt gnawing at him. Mitsui just stared at the wall and clenched his fists.

* * *

><p>He arched his back until he thought it was going to snap and filled the whole, echoing space with another terrified scream. The pain went on longer this time, long enough for him to feel the sensation of his flesh actually melting around the searing heat before the agony stopped and he collapsed back against the floor gasping. Across the room, next to where Kaede was bound to the cell bars, Norio smiled, although Sendoh was too far gone to notice it.<p>

He lay too exhausted to move. His eyes didn't seem to be working for although his lids were open, he could no longer see the ceiling.

His mind had been reduced to nothing except a twitching wreck desperately trying to shut out the pain. A freezing coldness had numbed his limbs, though that only seemed to sharpen the agony even more. He was aware of the screams which he knew belonged to him, but sounded like they were coming from another world entirely.

He was outside himself and yet he remained aware. Aware of Norio sitting, watching. Aware of the futility of what he was enduring. Aware of pain, and of screaming. He knew what they were doing to him, and that made it worse.

In the beginning, he had still been aware of his surroundings. He had understood their intentions when they'd choked him, wrapping a strip of cloth around his neck and twisting it so it tightened and tightened until he'd finally collapsed for lack of air. Half strangled, they had pushed him down on his back, stripping his clothes to leave him cold and naked on the bare concrete, weighing him down, a man to each limb. They had loosened the noose around his neck enough that he should remain conscious, but not enough that he should escape the feeling of sick dizziness that left him so defenceless.

Then Norio had stepped forward with two small objects in his hand. One had been a plain metal stick, not more than ten centimetres long, rapier thin, utterly unassuming. The other, a small metal clip, the type that held leaves of paper together. And Sendoh had watched him with eyes too vacant to understand what those tiny objects could do to him. How fragile and hurtful the human body really was.

He hadn't dared to move, or even twitch, as Norio touched him with ice cold fingers that made his skin rise with gooseflesh. Slowly, carefully, Norio had slid the short metal rod directly into his urethra. It hadn't hurt, not yet, but the constant fear that, with a small slip of his hand Norio might tear those most delicate tissues only helped to heighten his panicked state of mind.

But it wasn't until they had fixed up the wires that led from that protruding piece of metal to a spare car battery that he really lost his composure.

"No..." He'd begged, his breath short, his eyes full of tears, his mind unravelling, "Please don't. Please don't."

Norio had gently but firmly forced open his mouth and attached the other metal clip to one of his teeth to complete the circuit. In that short second, as the guard put his finger to the switch, Sendoh was sure he would have done anything, absolutely anything, to appease them. He would have got down on his knees and willingly kissed Norio's boots if it would have preserved him from this.

But the next moment all such thoughts were wiped from his mind as the pain rushed through him, arching his back off the cold floor and screaming in terror.

Yes, he was terrified.

Terrified that he wouldn't be able to endure it. That the secret word he'd had the foresight to arrange with Kaede would force its way past his lips in his pain-filled delirium, no matter how fiercely he tried to hold it back. Terrified he might have said it already.

The current was turned off and his body fell back against the floor, his eyes full of tears.

"Did you know" Norio began pleasantly, "if you maintain a low current, electrocution leaves very little physical damage? It's a very effective way of keeping this kind of thing… quiet."

Sendoh was gasping and whimpering too much to hear the words - Norio spoke for Kaede's benefit alone. The whole show, indeed, was for Kaede's benefit alone.

"But then again…" Norio continued, reaching out and stroking Kaede's cheek tenderly, "…that's not such a concern when it comes to you, now, is it? Permanent damage is rather our… _thing_, don't you think?"

Kaede stared straight through him without any reaction.

"How much more do you intend to make him endure?" Norio asked gently.

Kaede's eyes didn't flicker.

Norio rolled his eyes and stood up. He lifted a hand and nodded to the guard who crouched beside the waiting battery.

"Again?" the man asked.

"Again."

* * *

><p>When Sendoh came to, the ceiling had reappeared. He stared at it for a while. There was no noise. He could have been alone in this empty place. Could have been, but somehow he didn't believe that.<p>

He let his head fall to the side.

They'd left Kaede in the same place. Rope around his neck and wrists held him tight against the bars so he couldn't move, so he had been forced to watch the entire sorry performance. Sendoh stared at him. His eyes were closed but his entire body was shaking and shivering. There were trails of blood, Sendoh realised, trickling down his hands from where his nails had dug into his skin. It was obvious he was discomposed, more so, perhaps, than Sendoh had ever seen him before.

Sendoh tried to move, but couldn't raise the strength to do so. He lay where they'd left him after he'd finally passed out, shivering with the cold. He could see the discarded pile of his clothes heaped in a corner, but couldn't even begin to think of crawling to reach them. Gingerly he drew his arms in closer towards his body for warmth.

_Kaede?_ His lips formed the word, but he had no breath to speak. Only a soft gasp escaped him, but it was enough for Kaede to open his eyes and look at him. Sendoh was surprised to see the tears that had collected on his lower lashes. His heart hiccupped against his ribs.

_You didn't tell them, did you?_ he wanted to ask, but could do nothing but widen his eyes meaningfully. He noticed the way the ropes had rubbed mercilessly into Kaede's skin, and wished he had enough strength to move closer to release him from his painful binds. He even tried roll onto his side, attempting to lift an arm, wondering if he could crawl his way over and help him somehow.

"Don't…" Kaede's unnaturally stressed voice stopped him, "…don't move."

Sendoh could only look at him questioningly.

"Norio… Norio will bring the doctor to see you soon" Kaede explained in a soft voice, a tone far gentler than Sendoh would have ever expected from him. "You don't need to do anything now so just… just rest."

_But you… Kaede… Kaede, you are still in pain…_ Sendoh tried to communication his distress, but a strange tiredness had gripped his mind, blackening it again. The last thing he heard before he was tipped back into unconsciousness was Kaede's shuddering voice.

"Rest," it said, "I am… right here. With you."

~tbc

ANs: I seriously end up researching the weirdest stuff for this fic. Somehow I always feel wildly uncomfortable typing stuff like "electric shock torture" into google. Oh well x.x

For anyone following along with it, Chp2 of Nijo's Shadow is basically finished, I just have to try and salvage a realistic ending for it I'll get it up soon, promise!

Happy Chinese New Year those of us who celebrate it^^ Gong Hei Fat Choi! Yes, I have had a fabulous five days off work, thanks for asking xD


	18. Chapter 18

**Reodavle: **Hi! Thanks for another review :) Ahaha yeah I end up researching the weirdest stuff x.x I just finished reading The Hunger Games and they mention electric shock torture in that so, if that's in a book for kids, I hope I can get away with it too haha.

**Soulfighter17**: Hey, welcome! Thanks for your review. I'm glad you're enjoying the story. I like "dark" stuff as well. And I love MitKo! Somehow my Senru fics so often have MitKo in the background, heehee, I can't resist them :)

**Anita**: Heehee sorry for doing bad things to Sendoh – but since he is the 'hero' of this story, (you know I usually like to focus on Rukawa lol :P) he's gotta go through some trials, right? ^.- Thanks for another review! :D

**Addicted to SD**: You are so observant! – I didn't even notice the 3-stories-1-chapter thing until you pointed it out xD It makes me sound a lot cooler than I really am (like I really planned the structure carefully whereas actually I was just floundering around trying to stick ideas on the page hahahaha). Thanks a lot for your review!

**KagXmi: **Hi, thanks for your review! Heehee I'm having lots of fun with Jin and Maki. I feel bad for Maki too – he was in a lose-lose situation. At least he's still on the same 'side' as Jin so who knows? Maybe it'll work out :P

**Champ-kaede**: Wow, thanks so much for your review :) Sorry this chapter took a little longer than usual in coming, but I hope you're still reading along ^^. Glad you're enjoying it so far!

**Tidbits**: Yo! And phew, I'm glad you're not mad at me! (Maki is your favourite, right?) Heehee, I love psycho-Jin xD He's totally bad-ass. Maki should have known better than to mess with him lol! Ah but no, somehow I get the feeling Jin felt pretty bad for ousting Maki but a boy's gotta do what a boy's gotta do ^.-

**Ikarinogo**: Hi, welcome! And thanks for the review, I'm glad you're reading along and hope you continue to enjoy it! :D

**Thine Own Palace**

**Chapter 18**

Ishizuka's eyes moved around Norio's office thoughtfully. Perhaps too thoughtfully, Norio noticed tiredly as he sat down in his chair and rubbed his hands heavily over his face. Ishizuka, he remembered, was no fool. For the moment, Norio needed him, but knew he could not trust him. Unfortunately he didn't have any alternatives. For the moment, he simply gestured with a hand, inviting the man to speak.

"Severe malnutrition," the doctor spoke out immediately. "His body is already at its limit. Another performance like that and you may well trigger organ failure. And that's to say nothing for his state of mind."

Norio sighed slightly and said nothing. It was bad news, but he had expected as much. Besides, Ishizuka had no reason to lie to him.

Across the table, Ishizuka stared openly at him, deigning to fill the empty silence as most men would. The quietness prickled, tense and vast. After a moment, Norio nodded. Slowly he reached into a drawer below the desk and placed a thick brown envelope on the tabletop, sliding it across the surface with a definite audible swish. "Thank you doctor" he said, "for your continued advice and, of course, your discretion."

The doctor pursed his lips slightly and picked up the envelope without bothering to feel for the contents. He slipped it into his bag. The action did not relieve the air of its heavy tension. They worked together. That did not mean they needed to like each other.

"I hear we are short staffed today" Norio commented dryly. A half-hearted attempt at conversation.

"That's correct," Ishizuka confirmed. "Doctor Masimo has been on sick leave these past two days. I am taking his place in the medical room."

Though he spoke with careful neutrality, Norio could not help hearing the slight inflection in his tone that suggested he thought Doctor Masimo's work rather beneath him. Norio found he could not resist needling at the doctor's sense of self-importance.

"Ah," he replied, "taking care of the inmates. How is it going?"

Ishizuka glared at him, no doubt catching the undercurrent of dislike in his voice. He did not reply except to say with every inch of coldness; "If you will excuse me, I must get back to my work."

Norio smirked internally, but did not let it show. Let the arrogant bastard fill out forms for a couple of days. It would do him some good.

Norio nodded at him, and the doctor rose from his seat. He gave the room a final sweep with his eyes before turning to leave. Norio nearly sighed. It was irritating, having to depend on such a snake. Luckily Ishizuka was not the sort of man to get personal dislike get in the way of a good deal. So long as Norio could meet his demands, his work was reliable.

Once the door had closed, Minister Tsuki emerged from behind the painted screen that hid his seat in the corner of the room from where he had been listening to the conversation. "I don't like that doctor" he said immediately. "I don't trust him."

_A remarkable judge of character,_ Norio thought scathingly to himself, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"I know. I don't trust him either," Norio replied, steepling his fingers, "But doctors who know how to keep their lips sealed are not so easy to find. Besides, I've worked with Ishizuka for long enough to know that he is... good at his job."

_His __job __being__-_he thought silently - _keeping __Kaede __Rukawa __alive __for __as __long __as __possible._

"So what do we do now?" Tsuki demanded, unable to keep the note of frustration out of his voice. Norio glanced sideways at him and remembered that the elections were coming up soon. Tsuki would be in a particularly fretful mood.

"At the moment, we cannot do anything except let him recover. As you heard the doctor say, until he regains his strength, anything we do might result in permanent damage."

"So what?" Tsuki snapped. "Do you realise I've got a morgue full of bodies out there after the shoot-out last weekend? Do you realise a five year old boy was shot dead still holding his mother's hand? Those dirty mother fuckers." He paced angrily around the room, his stress bubbling to the surface. "I've got the press camping on my bloody doorstep, wanting to know when I'm going to make good on my promise to bring the Tokyo Sect to heel..." he stopped, breathing heavily, looking like he wanted to throw something at the wall.

Norio took a breath and narrowed his eyes. He turned deliberately in his chair to meet Tsuki's stare head on.

"This is not Rukawa Kaede we are dealing with," he said, forcing his voice into patience. It would do no good to lose his cool with Tsuki being as mindlessly hotheaded as he was. "I've got Rukawa Kaede's death certificate right here in this drawer. There's an empty grave out there with his fucking name on it. No one, I mean _no one,_ is ever going to come looking for him. But Sendoh Akira is just another boy serving a medium jail term. His name is listed on the prison register, along with the fact that, no, when he entered the prison he was not permanently maimed. You-" he gestured pointedly to Tsuki, "-and your career depends on not doing anything that damages him which could then be traced back to us. Because I'm telling you, seriously, one day that boy is going to walk free of this place, and we can't let any of the tales he tells have any sort of credibility, or we are fucked. And don't you fucking forget that."

Tsuki tried valiantly to maintain his angry glare, but eventually deflated with a sigh. "All right then, so what do we do?"

"Let him rest. Let him recover. Then, we start again."

"And the twenty three?"

"I'll keep him" Norio replied coldly, "like always."

"Work on him?"

"Of course... perhaps separating them now will weaken him enough, who knows?"

Tsuki glowered in annoyance. "I don't have time for any more mistakes, Norio."

Norio raised one brow, recalled that the current mess was because of Tsuki's own impatience, and swallowed an angry retort.

* * *

><p>Sendoh swam in and out of his deep sleep over the next few days.<p>

Sometimes he dreamt of a garden. A beautiful place with flowers climbing hungry from their beds; the small, striking star-bursts of lantanas mixed with gentler petals of oleander and buttercups nestled among their leaves. Safe and beautiful and where they belonged.

Sometimes he dreamt of a set of stairs, marble stairs, white and clean rising up into the clouds, promising him and demanding from him. But though he tried to climb them, he would always fall back, exhausted.

Sometimes he just slept like the dead, dreaming nothing at all.

Occasionally he became aware of a bubbling sequence of pictures, words, things he wasn't sure of but which seemed to belong to his waking consciousness rather than the world of his dreams. In the brief moments when he drew close to wakefulness they swam through his muddled mind like flickering fish. The more he tried to look closer at what they were, the more they seemed to break apart, melding into the water like ink until they became indistinguishable. It was in those moment's, when he felt himself losing sight of what was important, that he became aware of a crushing sadness. Momentary. And then he would sink back into sleep.

* * *

><p>Sakuragi Hanamichi, sitting by his cell mate's bedside, would be the first to admit he was no expert in matters of health and well-being. In his young life, most of the maladies he had seen had been of the irreversible kind. He'd seen a man die in slow agonies from a knife in the stomach, for instance. Also, he'd seen a man die in kicks and gurgles hung from a beam by a noose around his neck. But he had never seen a man sleep solidly for three days without a single mark on his body to suggest injury.<p>

The whole thing puzzled him.

Admittedly, there was a great deal that Sakuragi didn't know much about. Having failed his way out of education he depended more on his astonishing levels of athleticism rather than any intellectual prowess.

Matters of geography had landed him in with the _Yunta_ gang but, truth be told, more than one gang had their eyes on him. He was the sort of person who was useful in a dangerous world like this one. Phenomenally strong, easy to influence.

Sakuragi had never been a rider. He was the rare type of person who treated fighting instinctively. He had a natural tendency towards it. Backing down from a battle had never been one of his habits.

Nor had sitting on the floor, for that matter, yet he was doing so now. Legs crossed, his strong back leaning against the uncomfortable concrete wall as he stared at the exhausted body of his enigmatic cell mate, Sendoh Akira, sprawled out helplessly on the sheets, apparently dead to the world.

And there he frowned, and sat, and waited with as much patience as he could bear. He didn't owe Sendoh Akira anything at all and yet Sakuragi remained because for some reason he found him strangely... likeable. Likeable, despite his apparent affiliation with the _numbers_ gang that Sakuragi so detested. Somehow he couldn't really believe Sendoh to be one of them. He was too real, almost too _human_, for that.

Still he was aware, more than aware, that his sympathy, his pseudo-_friendship _with this boy was going to cause him more harm than good. And although he _liked_his cell-mate, he also pitied him for the state of things. Knew, not without an odd feeling of regret, that Sendoh Akira was hurtling down a dangerous road. Knew that he'd probably meet a cruel fate at the end of it. And Sakuragi had no intention of being there to see it. Even less to share in it. He knew he needed to spend less time worrying about Sendoh and more time worrying about himself. He knew he needed to flush these unbecomingly tender feelings from his mind.

Sakuragi filled the quiet, empty hours wondering who Sendoh's allies were, and whether there was some way of perhaps brushing Sendoh off onto them, so he needn't worry about him any more. He thought of Mitsui and the rider, the ones who had been with Sendoh last, as far as he knew. He hadn't seen any of them in the dining hall since the incident with the riot_. _He barely saw any of them, ever, in fact. In recent weeks, more often than not, Sendoh didn't even return to the cell at night. Sakuragi had no idea where he could be spending his evenings.

It bothered him. It was as if they had become ghosts in the walls, these _numbers_. For Sakuragi, who'd never moved through the prison with anything less than stomping feet, the art of hiding, of moving stealthily, was like a strange unknown oddity. He couldn't fathom how they did it.

It was only at meal times and during his allocated shower time that Sakuragi left Sendoh alone in the cell. He didn't know why it was so difficult to drag himself away. And even out in the dining hall he found it hard to take his mind away from his cell-mate twisting and turning in fever.

Today was not exceptional in this. Sakuragi's mind was still preoccupied with Sendoh as he joined the rest of the prison population; the gang members, the riders and everything in between, in the familiar dining hall. He made his way over to the usual bench, a deep frown brushed across his face.

The Yunta gang had grown in influence in the past couple of weeks so that they now controlled not only their main bench, but half of another one besides. Their gains were in no small part due to Sakuragi's own fighting prowess. He was increasingly respected, and now often sat close to Akagi, at the heart of the gang, and was privy to the sort of muttered conversations that steered the gang through the bloody waters of prison survival.

Sakuragi took his seat, dropping a tray of potatoes and gravy onto the table before him, and picked up his fork to eat.

"We need another rider" Akagi announced abruptly, as soon as Sakuragi had settled. The huge monster of a man sat with his arms crossed, immobile in his chair, staring down the table. At the furthest end of the bench, as always, sat their rider. A bruised, shivering creature with nervous eyes and trembling hands as if he were expecting a beating any moment. Sakuragi did not know his name. He remembered, though, that there used to be two.

Sakuragi continued to eat and said nothing.

He had no interest in riders. He had never felt the urge to proclaim dominance over something that was already broken, didn't see any glory in that. Perhaps it was because he had never been violated himself that he did not share the other's desperate desires for revenge. Did not feel as if his masculinity were something he had to prove. Because, oblivious though he might seem, looking around he knew that most of them – even the strongest and most aggressive leaders among them - had been turned at one point or another. Most of them had experienced the agonies and indignities they now inflicted so liberally on others. That was, after all, how the circle of dominance keep itself running. Everyone pushed others down just to keep themselves afloat.

However, Sakuragi also knew better than to ever suggest such a thing aloud. The comment would probably get him killed. They'd all do anything at all to hide their miserable pasts.

"You want to turn one?" Myagi queried from Akagi's other side, also looking down the length of the bench, "or steal one?"

Akagi frowned in thought.

"I don't know. Who have you got in your cell?"

Myagi scowled "Some ugly bastard called Fukuda. He rides with the Spans."

"Hn," Akagi replied with a non-committal shrug. "What about you, Hanamichi?"

Sakuragi felt his throat tighten. "Uh..." he replied "...Sendoh Akira."

Akagi's eyebrows rose with interest. "Sendoh Akira? I remember him. Good looking kid, isn't he? Why don't you turn him?"

Sakuragi became aware of the eyes around him. He licked his lips in rare nervousness. He knew it was a delicate topic of conversation, and that any node of sympathy he displayed would be taken as weakness by the others. He shifted in his seat.

"Don't you remember that thing with Mitsui?" he said, dropping to a low voice. "Sendoh is said to be... part of the... you know... the _numbers._" The last word came out in a whisper that was barely audible. Half a dozen pairs of eyes were watching him around the table and guilt clutched him, knowing he was helping spread a rumour that would probably get Sendoh killed, but not able to think of another excuse.

Akagi sat back, suitably disgusted. "Oh yeah, I remember. Forget it then" he said, waving a hand in dismissal.

Sakuragi chewed his food slowly. It tasted of nothing. For the first time he noticed how long it took for the others to finish their food. The way the space echoed with their voices. The sound of feet, hands and scuffles. He ate slower until the gang began to disperse, abandoning their plates and clustering together, sullenly sitting or staring at nothing in particular.

When no one was looking, Sakuragi slipped the remaining pieces of potato off his plate, rolling them up in the hem of his shirt. With an exaggerated sigh, he rose to his feet.

Akagi looked at him.

"Going to take a dump" Sakuragi told him bluntly and, without waiting for a reply, slauntered off. No one challenged him. He left the dining hall through the small corridor door, the one Norio had appeared from the day of the riot, back into the maze of passages that made up the cell blocks.

He passed the cell he shared with Sendoh, but did not go in. Aware that he wasn't supposed to be in here at this time, and that if the guards caught him smuggling food there would be all kinds of hell to pay, he tried to soften his footsteps. Just a little bit. Norio's name was enough to make even someone like Sakuragi feel nervous.

Unfortunately he didn't know where he was going. He'd never really bothered to explore the cell block during mealtimes before, living out his existence primarily through the complex battles of territory that played out in the dining hall. This was not his world, and the deeper he walked into the seemingly unending rows and rows of cells, the more he realised how difficult this would be. He was dwarfed by the sheer size of the place. Too many places to hide. And alone. The further away from the hall he walked the more powerfully the sense of isolation pressed upon him. Empty corridors, and empty cells. And yet, he knew, they had to be here. Somewhere.

It was luck more than judgement that caused him to catch the distant sound of voices from one of the corridors. Immediately he turned his hopeful feet in that direction, however the sound of conversation soon quietened and he was forced to pause, confused about which direction it had been coming from in the first place. He turned his head left and right, but could hear nothing. Frustrated, he continued to walk straight ahead on his present course, passing nothing but concrete walls and empty cells, feeling lost. There were no features to this barren landscape, captured in this closed concrete cage. No windows or marks on the walls or anything at all to distinguish one corridor from another. A labyrinth of nightmares.

On he walked, footsteps echoing, his chest heavy with unexpected discomfort. He felt as if he were somehow trespassing in a place he was not welcome. His skin prickled as if he were being watched.

Ahead of him, another T-junction came into view. He slowed his steps in disappointment. He had known it was a long shot, but somehow the endless concrete depressed him as it hadn't before. A place so devoid of life, of animation, of colour, and Sakuragi was left with the realisation that he was, at heart, a social creature. The quiet sound of his own breathing - he just couldn't bear it.

Abruptly he spun around, turning back as if suddenly spooked, deciding in a rush to return to the familiar dining hall. He nearly jumped with surprise to see that someone was standing in the corridor, not ten feet behind him, watching him. He could barely believe it, the illusion of isolation had been so powerful.

"Mitsui," Sakuragi gaped, aware of his heart pounding, how he was utterly unnerved.

Mitsui glared at him defensively, recognising him but only deepening his frown further.

"Sakuragi."

They had been gang mates once. On the same team. Not more than two weeks ago they had shared the same table, eating together, sharing a mutual protection. Sakuragi's eyes flickered to the mark on Mitsui's forearm, proudly displayed under his rolled up sleeve. Now they were enemies.

His eyes moved back to Mitsui's face. The boy was clearly expecting a fight. Sakuragi would have been more than prepared to give him one if not for the potatoes still rolled up in his clothes, reminding him of the reason he was here in the first place.

He shifted his feet, uncertain what to say, being more experienced at starting fights than stopping them. Luckily, before Mitsui could rush him, a second person stepped out of a cell to join him.

This person Sakuragi didn't recognise at all. A completely unknown face. Broad, strong, coolly focused. There was something about him that caused even battle ready Sakuragi to pull short. The numbers _twenty eight _curved prominently on his bicep. One on one against Mitsui and Sakuragi would have have more than a fighting chance, but in this situation he would be hard pushed.

Carefully he unrolled the slightly squashed pieces of smuggled potato from his shirt hem and, collecting them into his palm he held them out like a piece offering.

"Here" he said, "this is all I could manage to get out."

Mitsui stared at him as if he had gone mad. "What do you want Sakuragi?" he demanded.

Sakuragi dropped the potatoes to the floor where they landed with a splat, and shoved his hands deep into his waistband with an awkward shrug. What _did_ he want?

"I want to know if you are still his... allies" he replied.

Mitsui appeared puzzled. "Who?"

"Sendoh Akira."

They both looked at him in utter astonishment. It was not, Sakuragi supposed, what they'd expected to hear. After their initial surprise faded, Mitsui's face turned blank while the other man's curled into an irritated scowl.

"What do you know about Sendoh?" a third voice demanded. The speaker, presumably another member of the _numbers_ gang, now stepped out of the same cell Maki had emerged from, his eyes narrow with suspicion.

_How many of them _are _there?_ Sakuragi found himself wondering with grim surprise.

The newcomer stopped in front of his two larger companions, his face eager for news. Sakuragi recognised him immediately as Mitsui's kid, the one who used to ride with the gang. A little beaten rabbit of a rider. He stood in the corridor now looking thin and sick, like he was wasting away, but there was a fierceness in his stare that Sakuragi had never noticed before. It was as if something had changed in him. Not defeated, he realised. Not this one.

_Stronger __than __I __gave __him __credit __for._

Kogure took another step forward, apparently oblivious to the kind of danger that two weeks ago would have had him cowering away from Sakuragi's stare. Where had he found that confidence? Sakuragi didn't know.

"Where is he?" Kogure demanded.

A rider, demanding, from him. It would have made Sakuragi laugh if it hadn't made him so irreconcilably nervous.

"In my cell," he replied, "sleeping like the dead. He's my cell-mate."

Kogure blinked. "Your cell-mate?" he queried, and Sakuragi nodded.

"He's been sleeping for days" he continued. "He's in a bad way. Doesn't wake up. Only mutters and rolls about a lot. That's why I'm here. I thought you might, you know, want to help him." _And __help __me_ – he added silently – _clear __my __mind __of __him._

"Is he hurt?" Kogure asked.

Sakuragi shrugged. "Don't think so. Not as far as I can see."

The three numbers exchanged cautious glances.

"I'd better go see him" Kogure said finally. "He might have information for me."

"But their cell is too close to the dining hall" Mitsui protested immediately. "We can't risk getting that close. If we're seen..." Mitsui trailed off. There was no need to go into details. They all knew well enough.

"It's fine. I can go by myself" Kogure replied calmly.

The two men beside him immediately looked thunderstruck.

"No way" Mitsui snapped, "no fucking way."

"Not happening Kiminobu," Maki confirmed.

Kogure waved a hand. "It will be fine" he said, "I'm a rider. No one is gonna pay any attention if Sakuragi is taking me back to his cell."

"No," Mitsui reached out to take Kogure's shoulder. "You can't."

Kogure's eyes narrowed and he roughly shook Mitsui's touch away. "I can" he snapped with an abruptness quite unlike his usual self. Mitsui snapped his mouth closed as if he'd just been struck.

Sakuragi watched the exchange in bemusement. Mitsui, a fighter strong enough to take even Sakuragi on, whipped into obedience by that skinny scrap of a boy. It seemed weird. Mitsui looked utterly livid, but he clearly did not dare to debate the matter any further. Maki did not waste his breath adding his voice to the argument. Probably, Sakuragi decided, because the rider would just ignore him too.

_Is __there __something __more __to __him?_ Sakuragi wondered briefly, staring at Kogure in curiosity. _Does __he __have __a __blade? __A __dangerous __skill? __Something __of __substance __to __back __up __that __vicious __attitude __of __his? _He stared, but couldn't think of anything plausible.

"Sakuragi" Kogure said, turning back to him, "let's go."

Sakuragi shrugged. It didn't matter to him what they decided to do, so long as it was to Sendoh's benefit and would ease his conscience. Besides, there was no way in hell this little weakling could cause Sakuragi any problems. If there was any trouble it would be easy enough to discard him. There were plenty of wolves who wouldn't mind sinking their teeth into an ex-number.

Satisfied with the situation, he began to follow Kogure readily back down the corridor the way he had come. However he had to pass the two other men as he did so. They were both, he noticed, standing stiff as rods, every tendon in their bodies taut and ready. They made no move as he passed they by, although they both looked as if they'd dearly like to.

Mitsui was glaring at him with nothing short of hate. He met the unfriendly stare blankly.

"If you hurt him..." Mitsui began in a low, threatening voice.

Sakuragi ignored him and walked on. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

As it turned out it was Kogure who effectively led the two of them back, and just as well since Sakuragi was in no way confident that he would have been able to find the way himself. They walked together in a prickly silence. Apart from his determination to visit Sendoh, it seemed that Kogure had no intention of engaging in conversation with him. Probably wise, given Sakuragi's intense dislike of the _numbers_. The two of them weren't going to best friends at the end of this, that was for sure.

It was only in the last few yards that Sakuragi took the lead to show Kogure which cell was his. From the door they could just about make out the dull and distant noises of the dining hall a few hundred metres away. Sakuragi noticed that Kogure's fingers were trembling gently as they slipped inside the small, two-man room. His brash confidence seemed to have shrivelled to nothing. Sakuragi found he had room to pity Kogure for his unfortunate lot as a rider, but knew he would never forgive him for the brand he carried, knowing full well what it meant.

The cell was tiny. Beds one above the other with only a narrow strip of space between them and the dull concrete wall. Sakuragi, big as he was, took up most of the room. It was cramped and uncomfortable, and Kogure couldn't even kneel beside the bed without his toes bunching up against the wall.

He looked at Sendoh and shivered.

The boy was clearly feverish, sweat standing out from his forehead, but when Kogure pressed a hand again his skin, it felt cold. He ran a hand down Sendoh's cheek and the boy groaned and stirred.

At least, Kogure comforted himself, he looked... solid. There were no gaping wounds or obvious burns or scars.

"He has a fever, but this is not a natural sleep" Kogure spoke after a moment. "Looks like he's been sedated. Have you seen anyone give him an injection?"

Sakuragi shook his head mutely.

"Then they must do it when you're out of the cell at mealtimes. They're clearly keeping him resting." _Or __keeping __him __quiet_.

He looked up and around, suddenly aware that whoever came round to treat Sendoh might be due to arrive any moment. "We shouldn't be here" he realised aloud.

Something about Kogure's analytical surety gave Sakuragi the creeps. He too looked around as if Norio were about to walk out of the wall. He half-wished he had just stayed in the dining hall today.

Kogure was on the verge of rising to his feet, when Sendoh's whispered protest stopped him. He froze in place and watched as Sendoh moved his head slightly and opened his eyes confusedly.

"Kogure...?"

Kogure leaned forward in surprise. "Yes, yes. It's me..." and knowing they were pressed for time he cut right to it, "...do you know where they are? A contact? An address?"

Sendoh stared at him without comprehension for a moment before he gasped and suddenly flailed, trying to sit up. Kogure placed his hands on his shoulders and held him down. It was not hard to do. Sendoh had no strength at all.

"No" he spoke assuredly, as if directing a child, "don't move. Speak."

Sakuragi watched the exchange silently. Kogure's presence was suddenly strangely reassuring. The boy seemed to know exactly what to do. It got Sakuragi wondering what he had been before he had been shut away in here. A medical student? A doctor? Within these walls, people avoided talking about the lives they had left outside.

Sendoh only stared up at Kogure with wide, astonished eyes.

"Ka... ede?"

Kogure shook his head. "Think" he commanded softly. "The address."

Sendoh closed his eyes with a sigh. He was quiet for a long time such that Sakuragi thought he must have sunk back into sleep, but then, with his eyes still closed, he spoke.

"I think... Keio Plaza? Kabukicho, in Shinjuku. Some sort of hotel." He screwed up his eyes in the effort to think. "2-chome. 29... something."

"Okay" Kogure replied, nodding. "That's all I need to know. You rest now."

"Rest...?" Sendoh echoed confusedly, then, as if suddenly remembering something, renewed his frantic efforts to sit up. "Kaede? Where is Kaede? He was hurt – where is he?"

"He's going to be fine" Kogure promised smoothly, the lie falling from his lips effortlessly. He had no idea what state Kaede Rukawa might be in and, honestly, he wasn't especially concerned. He had other matters to think about, such as how he was going to get a message out to Shinjuku given his severely limited resources.

Sendoh looked relieved. He collapsed heavily back again the mattress and his eyes closed with a sigh, slipping readily out of consciousness yet again. Kogure smoothed his damp hair back from his forehead and pulled back the covers to quickly confirm what Sakuragi had told him – there didn't appear to any obvious marks on him. No token of the torture Kogure was sure he must have endured. It was the most obvious explanation for his scrambled state of mind. With a shake of his head, Kogure pulled the covers back up to Sendoh's chin.

He was just rising to his feet when he noticed that the noises of the dining hall which had been at a safe distance all this time were suddenly echoing in the corridor right outside the room. He didn't have time to react before the doorway was full of a face he had had absolutely no wish to ever see again.

"Yo, Sakuragi..." Tetsuo grinned, draping himself casually against the door frame, his face like a painted mask of amusement that hid his aggression. A group of _yunta_ members were clustered behind him. "We've been hearing a few stories about your little..." His eyes flickered towards where Sendoh lay immobile, but locked onto Kogure instead. His words petered out and his face twisted with unpleasant surprise.

Kogure realised his legs were shaking so hard he needed to grip the edge of Sakuragi's bunk just to remain upright.

"What the _fuck?_" Tetsuo hissed, staring at Kogure in blatant disbelief, his eyes widening with rage.

Kogure's terrified mind tried to think of a plan. A concrete cage. Trapped. No way out. One door – blocked. They'd kill him. Sendoh - unconscious. Then maybe.. Sakuragi? No. Sakuragi is one of them. Alone. The walls. The walls were growing. Taller. And taller. He would suffocate.

"I didn't know you were a _number_ Sakuragi," Tetsuo suggested threateningly.

"Of course I'm fucking not" Sakuragi snapped back, balling his hands into fists. "I fucking hate the bastards."

"Rumour says your cell-mate is one."

"That's why I went and found this one," Sakuragi swiftly retorted, tossing a look of contempt at Kogure. He didn't need to fake it. His sympathy did not extend that far. "To find out if it was true. So I would know whether to smash his fucking face in."

"And is it?"

Kogure. Breath. Filling lungs with air. In. Out. Throat tight. Too tight. Paralysed. Hopeless. What would they do to him? What... what...

The room seemed to spin, yet remained awfully in focus. Kogure became hyper-aware of his body, every single nerve seemed to be alive, electrified. He was filled with momentary appreciation of the thinness of his skin, the intelligent clusters of his nerves and the delicate blue veins that ran beneath. The strong yet oddly fragile bones that held him up, the small clumps of collagen that formed his nails, his hair. Each little part seemed miraculous and beautiful, but every single one of them weak to pain. Every single one they could break. And, as their rider, he knew better than anyone; they would be totally unforgiving.

He realised they were looking at him.

"Well?" Tetsuo demanded, taking an angry step forward, seizing hold of Kogure's shirt and dragging him upwards. He was so much bigger. So much stronger. Kogure felt like a rag doll in his grasp. There was no hope. None at all. Tetsuo shook him back and forth angrily. "I asked you a fucking question."

"No" Kogure tried to say, he could only mouth the word, having no breath to form even a syllable, his lungs feeling like ice. _No_. Somehow. For some reason. _No_. Sendoh is not a number. _No._

"But you are."

Tentatively, Kogure met Tetsuo's eye. He saw that a smile was snaking its way across his cheeks. He felt his organs twist furiously around each other. He had to gasp for breath.

"But." Tetsuo repeated, each words punctuated with a short stop and a spray of spit, "You. Are."

Kogure felt like a rabbit in headlights as he stared into Tetsuo's merciless eyes. There wasn't anything left in him.

"...yes" he managed to mouth numbly before feeling the bone in his jaw break as Tetsuo smashed his face into his knee.

~tbc

Ok so, as you probably know, I tend to create playlists for my multi-chapter fics on my ipod – full of the songs I use to imagine particular scenes or capture particular characters – and then play them to DEATH while writing. I find it quite interesting to go back to the songs I used to listen to for older fics and – as if by magic! – the story comes back to life in my head heehee. In any case, I thought you guys might be interested in my playlists (maybe?) so I created them on youtube and you're welcome to go and have a listen :) The link in on my profile page.

And yeah. I should probably apologise for how monumentally late this is. Actually I have been catching up on my reading. I've done so much writing in the past year or two that I've sort of fallen behind on my novels. Anyway, I've finished reading all of the Dragon Tattoo books (which were lots of fun but pretty insubstantial), all of The Hunger Games (which were awesome, except the last one where it felt like the author was simply juggling _too _many pies), the final book in the Eragon quartet (Inheritance), Game of Thrones (the TV series is awesome but, I'm very sorry to say, the books are _appallingly _bad. Don't bother to read it) and three others (My Sister's Keeper, A Boy Called It – yikes this was shocking!, and The Melting Pot.) If you've read any of these, feel free to leave a comment behind, I really love discussing books :D

Hopefully the next chapter will arrive faster than this one did heehee! Sorry!


	19. Chapter 19

**Soulfighter17: **Ahaha, Senhana is, without doubt, my most _loathed_ pairing in the universe xD I'm quite happy to put Sakuragi with Rukawa, but Sendoh and Sakuragi? Oh god no. Still perhaps it's feasible that Sakuragi would like Sendoh a bit hmm? Maybe, who knows! :D

**MrsKlemzak: **Hi again and thanks for your comments! Sakuragi plays a pretty minor role in this fic but I'm glad you're happy to see him about still hehee. Uh the insides of my head are not so interesting I'm afraid lol. Mainly a lot of grumbling. Few crumbs. That sort of thing :P

**AddictedtoSD: **Yikes, yeah sorry I took so long to update… this chapter has been a little quicker to make up for it I hope haha. There's even some Kaede, just for you :P

**Reodavle:** Uh huh – poor Kiminobu…. I'm a bad person ._. heeheehee

**Anita:** Hey – you're back! :D I woke up in the morning and said to myself "ok, if she hasn't reviewed by now I'm going to send an email and check if she's all right" lol – lucky you sent a review right that morning I was getting worried! Sorry I was so slow with the last chapter!  
>Funny you should say that about Kaede jumping out from corners to reach Akira, I sort of had the same idea :) Kaede does seem the sort of person who can achieve anything, right? Heehee – enjoy!<p>

**Warnings: Rape? Rape. Do I still have to warn you about this stuff?**

**Thine Own Palace  
><strong>**Chapter 19**

"Bad news" an aide said as soon as Norio walked into the security room.

"How bad?" Norio returned, setting a cup of coffee down on the central table, pushing a stack of files out the way as he did so.

"Maki's lost control of the _Kings_."

"_What_?" Norio was immediately by the man's side, looking over his shoulder at the written report on the table, and the clip that was replaying itself on the screen. It showed Mitsui, Kogure and Maki talking to Sakuragi in one of the corridors.

"He hasn't been near the _Kings_ in two days" the aide explained.

Norio was momentarily silent in astonishment. "Could it be a ruse?" he wondered aloud

"Could be" the man conceded. "Do you think it is?"

"Not really" Norio replied, with a brief shake of his head, "who is the new leader?"

"Maki's student…"

Norio's face twisted in displeasure.

"…some kid called…"

"I know. Shut up."

_Jin_.

There was a moment of silence as the aide looked up at Norio in uncertainty, and Norio's fingers twitched, balling and unballing his hands in irritation as he tried to think. He'd allowed for the possibility that Maki might fail or refuse to expel Jin, but he hadn't ever imagined _this_ would occur.

He put in down as a lesson to learn for next time. Not to underestimate the inmates continued ability to frustrate him. He scowled. This changed everything.

"Tell me everything we know about Jin," he demanded.

There was a shuffling of papers. "Jin Soichiro, twenty-four years old, male, heterosexual. Originally convicted six years ago for possession with intent to sell of a class A. Initial sentence of four years, extended to life following three charges of murder within the prison. All three victims were also members of the _numbers_. He's a twenty-three, low rank, from block F. After the _numbers_ fell he was moved to T-block and began riding with a small gang called the _brothers_ before being picked up by Maki and joining the _kings_. He rose up the ranks of the _kings_ quickly, and has unofficially been second in command for well over a year now."

Norio scowled again. "I know all of that. Give me something I can _use_."

The aide only shrugged. "We've got very little. He is described as having a frightening presence, despite being physically small. The judge at the trial described him as a natural killer, brutal and efficient, without conscience. The fact that he was able to wrest control of the gang from Maki suggests a previously unexpected skill in diplomacy. He will probably be much more difficult to control than Maki was."

Norio stared through him blankly. "Twenty-threes" he muttered, "I fucking hate twenty-threes."

The aide tilted his head to one side. "But surely the twenty-eights were the more dangerous group?"

Norio scoffed with derision. "Hardly." He fixed the man with a look of condescension. "Twenty-eights are simple-minded. They fight, they get angry, they see red, then they break someone's neck. They kill in a rage. It's not _right_, but at least it's... _human_. Sort of… _understandable_. But the twenty-threes are calculating killers. Cold-blooded, all of them. Like lizards."

The aide's mouth formed a pointed "o" of comprehension and Norio rolled his eyes.

"Who is Jin's closest ally, now that Maki is gone?"

"We have no data on that."

Norio folded his arms and pursed his lips. "We need more information," he said. "We need to know how Jin can be controlled. The _kings_ are the single largest group of _numbers_ in Fukushima. If they decide to make an aggressive move, things might get very bad very quickly." The team around him all looked downhearted at the prospect. Norio looked at them each in turn. None of them, he realised, remained from the original team he had worked with to bring the _numbers_ down in the first place. They were rookies, all of them. The thought caused him to scowl.

Where was he to find the information he needed? Who, in this prison, would be able to tell him about Jin Soichiro?

A thought stuck him. It was probably a long shot, but for the moment he had nothing else to go on. "Who was the other boy who went with him to the quarantine block a few nights ago?"

Another shuffle of papers.

"Kyota Nobunaga. Former twenty-seven from block H."

Perfect.

"Get him. Put him in isolation. Make sure you search every inch of him. He's a twenty-seven so he's bound to be hiding lockpicking tools somewhere. I do not want him getting out."

"Yes, sir."

Norio folded his arms where he stood and watched as there was a sudden scurrying about in the room as people got to work. Tsuki would have to wait. Ensuring that the prison was fully under his control was more important than dealing with the Tokyo Sect. For the moment, anyway. Norio did not intend to allow the _numbers_to get a foothold in anywhere. Not for one second.

He frowned for a moment and wondered if he wasn't overreacting. Was Jin really such a serious problem? It had been years since the _numbers_ had made any sort of move. Still, he reminded himself, it was better to be vigilant, rather than run of risk of losing control of the entire block. He stared at the men working around him, suddenly feeling tired. Was he imagining it, or did it feel like things were beginning to stir, and shift and bubble? It felt like he spent all of his time plugging one gushing leak after another these days. Where had his hard-earned stability gone? Was he losing his edge? Or had something actually changed?

He started at the still, flickering image on the monitor for a moment, and was struck with a powerful sense of déjà-vu.

This had all started, he released with a jolt, with Sendoh fucking Akira.

* * *

><p>Kogure thought he would be sick. Surrounded by these wild dogs, rank and salivating, globules of spit dribbling onto him as he squirmed and kicked to no avail. His mouth was full of blood that ran down his chin, over his cheeks and into his hair.<p>

It did him no good to escape one hand, for two more would instantly replace it, forcing him back, pulling viciously at his hair, dragging him into the mess of worn old sheets that smelt so rancidly of sweat and sex.

His clothes were dragged off him; his legs forced apart, his back twisted into grotesque contortions as they sought to devour him like vultures. He could not stop them.

Blood and mucus bubbled at his nostrils. He panicked and struggled and tried to shout out but a fist was shoved into his mouth, knocking his teeth painfully out of line and stretching his jaw, causing him to choke on his own blood. And all the while they clawed at him. Never so many. And never so painful. Nails felt like knives when they broke the tender skin of his thighs, blood smeared over his skin. His shirt was ripped off, an awful wrenching sound as the seams were torn apart, and then a brief pause, a sick kind of silence in which Kogure tried desperately to cover the mark, but his hands were forced away.

"So he really _is_ a number," said one voice in disgust. As if they'd actually doubted it. As if they had been prepared to do this to him _just in case_.

Kogure whimpered slightly, his head pulled painfully back by the hair so he could not see their faces but he could feel their eyes. Naked and helpless he could do nothing but endure their scorn. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

"Let's fuck him up" one man spat fiercely. "Fucking numbers should fucking die."

"You first, Tetsuo" someone nominated their impromptu leader, "tear him up."

A cold snigger and the noise of a zip followed this. Kogure could only gasp as Tetsuo reached out one tobacco stained hand and clutched his face in a merciless one handed vice, squeezing tight at his temples, palm crushing down on his nose. Kogure was forced to breath through his mouth, and the hot odour of Tetsuo's sweat seemed to coat his tongue. He thought he would suffocate. He tried to kick out but his legs hit nothing but the sheets. Hands seized his ankles and held them down.

What could he do?

In the past it had hurt, but he'd learnt how to relax, how to accept the dirt of the intrusion with the least amount of pain, he'd endured it so many times before. But this was different. He was totally overwhelmed. He was tense to the point of breaking, unable even to adjust the slightest angle to bring himself relief.

He couldn't regain control of himself, even as he felt Tetsuo take up his position, he knew he was panicking blindly, thrashing his head from side to side, desperate moans and pleas escaping his bloodied lips even though he knew his terror would just make it hurt all the more. He was afraid, and that left him with no defence. There was no way he could relax.

That was why it was such agony when Tetsuo took him.

Tears burst out of his eyes at the sharp, intense stab of tearing muscles.

Tetsuo's stinking body covered him, rank with sweat, panting hot, rancid breath into his face and neck. He felt his skin crawling in revulsion, felt sick with every movement, knowing the disgusting organ that was being forced into him, sloppy with liquid, throbbing veins bulging at its surface, the ugly shrivelled pendulum of a sack that dangled beneath slapping wet against the small of his back with each thrust.

He sobbed and he begged, but it changed nothing.

As Tetsuo thrashed into him, Kogure tried to keep his eyes closed and count the men jeering around him. Eight. And he'd have to take all of them. And after that... after that... he knew they wouldn't let him go. They'd call their friends and allies to come, or they'd simply drag him out into the dining hall, naked and bleeding and terrified, and execute him.

Well then at least, he thought, tears and blood smeared over his face, at least then it would stop. Death. Perhaps he ought to welcome it. Why not? After all... there was nothing he could do to escape it.

For a second he thought of Kaede Rukawa, and then for some reason he thought of Sendoh.

_It doesn't matter_, he realised through the fog of his emotions. _I am not the only one. There will be others who can help him. Others who know the location. Others who have contacts. And Mitsui_…_Mitsui_…

He was forced back to his reality when Tetsuo gave a loud groan and one last, violent trust before coming to a halt and pulling back out.

Kogure felt the sensation of foul, sick-scented semen leaking out of him, dribbling over his skin. He turned his head to the side and promptly vomited violently over the sheets.

He had no chance to rest, for he was immediately forced over onto his front as the next man took his place between his legs. Kogure felt his cheek rubbing against the rancid puddles of his own sick. The smell was vile. He tried to squeeze his lips closed but the taste of it already filled his mouth.

He cried out again as the second man forced his way inside. He already felt raw. He didn't need to look back to know that blood was already running in red ribbons down his thighs.

Seven more... he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on anything but the pain.

* * *

><p>"Have you ever been <em>fucked<em> before?"

Mitsui sent Maki a look of disgust across the cell. "Don't you fucking touch me," he warned.

Maki grinned, amused at Mitsui's discomfort. "I wasn't offering. Just asking."

"Hn." Mitsui tried to ignore the question and looked blankly around the cell for the hundredth time. It was boring, sitting here. Nothing to do. Nothing but a huge hole in his stomach, growling for food. Surely Kogure should have come back by now. He realised that Maki was still watching him, waiting for an answer. Mitsui frowned. "Have _you_?" he countered to avoid answering.

Maki leaned back against the wall. "Of course."

Mitsui was surprised by the confession, but Maki just shrugged.

"We're _numbers_" he pointed out. "We were all students once."

Mitsui wrinkled his nose in distaste. "I don't want to know."

"You're pretty lucky that Kogure doesn't do that to you."

Mitsui opened his mouth to snap a retort, but slowly closed it again in hesitation. "I… yeah… I know."

There was a long silence.

"It's a hard thing to do," Maki pointed out after a while. "Let someone do that to you. Not just the pain, I mean. It's shameful, right? Disgusting. No one is meant to see that place."

Mitsui pulled another face. "Could you just shut up about it?" he snapped, his discomfort with the subject painfully obvious.

Maki grinned as if he were enjoying teasing the younger twenty-eight, causing Mitsui to scowl in irritation and look away. When he did so, Maki slowly let the mirth drain out of his face and a distant hardness replaced it. He watched Mitsui for a moment longer.

With an abrupt, unexpected motion, Maki suddenly reached out and with two large hands shoved Mitsui violently off the bunk so he tumbled awkwardly to the ground, arms and legs flailing. Mitsui let out an exclamation of surprise which was quickly stifled when Maki dropped on top of him, pinning him forcefully against the floor by digging his hard knees painfully into Mitsui's shoulders to keep him down. Mitsui flailed with his arms but, strong as he was, he had no chance of shifting Maki's full weight from such a position. He could only wince as he felt his shoulder joints slowly crushed.

"What the _fuck_ are you..." he began to spit with fury, but froze when he realised that Maki's crotch was only a foot away from his face and saw the look in Maki's eyes. Mitsui's eyes immediately widened with apprehension.

"You don't have a clue, do you?" Maki hissed angrily, staring down at the helpless Mitsui coldly. "No fucking clue what it's like. Being at the mercy of someone who hates you. Someone who doesn't care if he fucks you up. Someone who actually _wants_ to hurt you and humiliate you as much as they possibly can. And you have to lie there, and just take it? You can't even fucking _imagine_ it."

Mitsui lay with his mouth agape, nervous panic filling up his eyes as Maki bent down to bring their faces closer.

"You... you can't do this" Mitsui stammered in disbelief. "It's against the _numbers_ rules to take someone else's student..."

Maki shrugged. "Good job there's no more _numbers_ then, huh?"

Mitsui let out a half-strangled protest when, with a breath of hot air, Maki bent lower and dragged his tongue languidly up Mitsui's neck. Mitsui tried desperately to buck him off, wriggling and screwing up his face in revulsion.

When Maki's hand strayed to the waistband of his pants, Mitsui paled as if he were about to faint.

"Hmm" Maki hummed quietly as he brought his lips to within an inch of Mitsui's, looking down on the panicked, frightened face below him. Slowly he let out his breath.

"Aren't you a twenty-eight?" He demanded, his angry tone returning abruptly. "Aren't you one of those _warriors_the _numbers_ were so proud of?"

Mitsui opened his eyes uncertainly. Maki stared down at him for a second longer before hauling himself up, leaving Mitsui still lying where he was on the floor.

Confused, Mitsui slowly sat up, nursing his painful joints, rolling his shoulders, and looking up at Maki blankly. Maki sat back on the bunk, his face livid. "How could you let them do that to him?" he demanded angrily.

Mitsui swallowed nervously as the purpose of Maki's 'lesson' became clear to him.

There was only a tense silence in which Maki glared at the wall and Mitsui tried to swallow the unsettled feeling in his stomach.

"He ought to be back by now," Mitsui finally managed to croak out.

"Yeah" Maki agreed.

Mitsui pulled himself back to his feet with as much dignity as he could manage considering his hands were shaking. "Let's go find him."

Maki met Mitsui's eyes and, after a moment, cracked his knuckles.

"Yeah" he said again, this time with a slight grin. "That's more like it."

* * *

><p>He lifted his head slightly as if to smell the air. Even from here, there were changes. The stench of the place. The giant block of the prison had always smelt like the pigs, but the air was changing. Slowly. Yes, very slowly. But changing nonetheless.<p>

A layer of blackness covered his eyes, but this place was so familiar to him he could see it even when blinded. The concrete he sat on had long ago become his back. The wooden post was his spine.

He moved his head in the slightest possible movement towards the right, his blind eyes swivelling in their sockets as if to glance in that direction. Through the blindfold he saw as if projected onto a screen the memory of Sendoh, pain-wrecked and screaming as if every nerve were on fire. He watched it all over again. And again. And again. He did not try to shut these demons out. He accepted his own madness.

His dry tongue slipped from between his lips in a futile effort to wet his lips, to taste the air. He had begun to perform the action obsessively, every thirty minutes or so. Feel the air on his tongue. Like a snake seeking a scent. Was he there? No. Now? No.

Logic should have told him he ought to hear Sendoh's arrival first, but logic had such little meaning down here in his blackness. At the flickering edges of his mind.

How he craved him. Every inch of him straining out to draw him nearer. As if he could reach his broken fingers out through the walls of this prison and touch him.

He did not move, however. Just the slightest movement of the handcuffs against his sore wrists brought waves of septic pain rushing through his bones. So he remained still, only the occasional compulsive flicker of his lip over his lips giving away that he was even conscious.

When the exterior door crashed open he did not jump with surprise, or make any motion at all. He was no longer sensitive to surprise. Footsteps moving closer. He did nothing. And yet somewhere in his stomach it felt like a large creature had stirred, curling around his lungs, filling his throat.

He analysed the sensation with a bemused sort of detachment.

He had not realised he was still susceptible to hope.

A cell door clanged closed. No, not to the right, not _his_ cell, but to the left. But still, maybe, it might just be a mistake...

"I wouldn't bother talking to him" a guard's voice came silkily through his darkness, "he's mute.'

Kaede felt the rope of emotion around his chest dissipate. Now he felt only hollow. Disappointment. No. It wasn't... _him_.

As the guard's presence faded away he heard the newcomer's movements. There was a rustling, a searching, the noise of clothes and empty hands moving, passing over the cell, feeling it. Looking for a way out? Kaede would have smiled with bitterness if he could remember how to do such a thing. There was no escape here.

Eventually the noises ceased as the occupant of the other cell gave up his exploration. Kaede did nothing but wait. He was always waiting. He would die waiting.

"Kaede… Rukawa?"

His name. He did not move. What had this brief, flickering speck life got to do with him? They came, sometimes. Norio's occassionals. To spend a day in the cell beside him. Soon enough they left. It was a temporary blackness for them. For him - it seemed to stretch on forever.

He'd been here since the day he'd died. Not existing, only enduring this endless, endless death.

"Kaede Rukawa? Can you hear me?"

Perhaps not. Perhaps he was only imagining the voice of his invisible companion. It wouldn't be the first time. At the beginning the hallucinations had been vivid and horrid. The distorted fragments of an unravelling mind, mixed into the darkness and the isolation to torment him. Now, though, he didn't even have the energy for that. He could barely remember a world outside.

"I'm... I'm Sendoh's ally."

The irrelevant muttering took on a new light.

_Sendoh_? The name slipped over him like a noose, like something with significance. What was it? Sendoh? Who was that...? _Ah_. Wasn't it? It must be... must be... _him_. The name of that one he craved. The name of his addiction. Was it? Yes, he was quite sure it was.

"My name… I'm Kyota Nobunaga. I'm a... twenty-seven. I was here… with Jin… before."

The boy seemed nervous. Why? He was nothing but a shadow now. Once before, long ago, he'd been something more. When, _out there_, the sound of his footsteps had echoed like death. But now, what did anyone have to fear from him? Part of his brain tried to kick a reflex response from his throat. Some sort of routine? Social requirement. Numbers law. What? Ah yes, the codes. It was laughable, so he stifled his response. He didn't bother to ask. What did it matter if he was lying or not? What on earth did the truth have to do with him?

A heavy sigh reached him, but still he gave no reaction. They all gave up trying to talk to him eventually. They all thought he was mad in the end.

"I don't suppose… you have a pin?"

He lifted his head. Only slightly. A memory seemed to stir. Sendoh. The quiet sound of his hands. The pain that seemed to recede before his presence as if it feared him. Him and his light. But… a pin? What was that? Did he have one? He tried to remember, quietly engaging the gears of his mind.

The act of actually having anything tasted odd. He ran his tongue over his teeth. There was a pain inside his cheek. The metallic taste of blood and steel. A sore laceration in the soft flesh of his mouth and a thin, sharp piece of metal wedged there between his teeth and cheek. He had hidden it for days, uncertain of its value, and it had become foul tasting and bacteria laden in his saliva. But it _was_. The one Sendoh had left here a few days before. The one this same Kyota had given him, yes. It would seem so.

With a cough that rattled painfully in his ribcage he spat it out onto his lap. He looked up.

He had two things. A pin, and a twenty-seven.

No… he had three things. A pin, a twenty-seven, and a purpose.

He felt Kyota's eyes watching him.

"You want to see him, don't you?"

Carefully, very carefully, Kaede Rukawa used one aching foot to push the pin across the floor towards the bars of Kyota's cage as far as it would go, ignoring the pain that raced through his bones with every motion. In the darkness and the silence he heard Kyota grin. Inside his mind he felt lights.

_Sendoh_.

His mind rang with the name like so many bells.

~tbc

ANs: Alas, I sort of wanted to get more of the story packed into this chapter, but in the end decided not to spend another week on it… plot developments next time – promise! (The word count on this fic is getting pretty high – omg.)

It's so much fun to write from Kaede's POV! He's so completely nuts. I just love his mind xD

I think the Maki-Mitsui scene is pretty weak (sad face) – can't get it right. But the issue of prisoner-on-prisoner violence was the reason I started with this fic in the first place so I wanted a little space to try and explore it a bit. Suggestions to improve it would be much appreciated!


	20. Chapter 20

**Mrsklemzak****: **Haha, no, Mitsui and Maki aren't meant to be a pair, as you will find out in this chapter! Mitsui only has eyes for Kiminobu after all :P And I'm rather taken with my snake-eyed dangerous Jin lol. I think he fits the serial killer shoes rather well. Thanks for another review!

**Anita**: Hmm I think you are right. Overstated violence does lend a sort of unreality to the whole thing. Perhaps if I ever get round to re-editing this I'll need to be more subtle and suggestive about it, to make it more powerful. Thanks for pointing that out :D And as always thanks for your regular reviews! Much appreciated!

**Addicted to SD**: Thanks for another review! :D I'm doing my best to make things semi-realistic, I hope it's holding up. There's a new series on Discovery called "First Week In" about prison life which seems very interesting, although I haven't had a chance to check it out yet. I wonder if it will provide more inspiration :)

**Tidbits**: Hey! Long time! :D Hope you're doing well :) I'm not too sure about the long term or internal effects of electric shock torture... might be worth finding out. Also not sure about Sakuragi. I have quite a few complex characters in this fic – I'm now just trying to keep a lid on them all before they all explode in my face. I'm not sure Sakuragi is as pure/simple as that though. I sort of see him as being the other side of the fence, representing the majority of the inmates while, of course, the rest of the characters fit into a minority. Surprised you can describe Kogure's rape as being a lighter chapter lol! I tried to water the whole thing down a little bit or it would just be _too_ much emo in one sitting.

**Loveless Raine**: This fic is sort of a delve into Sendoh's character for me (I typically use Rukawa as my main character) so I'm still feeling my way. I'm glad you like Nijo and Ugly too :) Kogure will get his moments in this fic, don't worry! As for Mitko... it would be unusual, but not unheard of, if inspiration strikes me!

**Anatagasuki**: LOL I wish I could believe your review and then I wouldn't have to spend SO much time drafting and redrafting and editing and re-editing and final-editing lol! Hope this chapter tides your craving over for a little while :)

**Hitomi**: Hello, and thanks for your review :)

* * *

><p><strong>Note!: <strong>The content of chapter 18 I've had to change because I made a story-related screw up. To save you reading the whole thing again, I'll just let you know that instead of forgetting the Tokyo Sect's address when Kogure asks him, Sendoh is able to remember it. That's all!

**Thine ****Own ****Palace**  
>Chapter 20<p>

Sakuragi was awake at the first sign of noise. It was dark. Only the faintest glow from the corridor's night lighting shone around the edges of the cell door. But there was movement there, a quiet scratching, rustling, like a mouse.

Suddenly very much awake, Sakuragi rolled over onto his stomach, leaning upon his elbows and staring intently at the door. Nobody trying to break in at the dead of night would have good intentions.

He made no noise as he rolled off the upper bunk, his feet touching the cold floor silently, and stood poised and listening. He stared at the cell door only a stride away, although in the darkness he couldn't see more than a dim outline of anything. From down by his knees the sound of Sendoh's breathing came slow and regular from the lower bunk, still asleep.

_They've __come __for __him_, Sakuragi realised with a chill. _They've __come __back. __And __this __time __there__'__s __no __one __else __around __to __take __the __fall._

The tiny metallic scratching continued.

There was nowhere to spring an ambush from, although Sakuragi positioned himself strategically beside the door, ready to grab anyone who entered. All the time he asked himself - _what __am __I __doing? __Why __am __I __doing __this? __How __far __am __I __prepared __to __go?_ Unable to answer his own doubts he tensed his muscles, ready to fight, and noticed that his arms were shivering. Perhaps it was the cold, or the adrenaline, or even his nerves. It was so unlike him to feel anything but the thrill of the fight. It seemed the prospect, the darkness, Sendoh, Kogure earlier in the day, everything, had conspired to unnerve him.

The quiet working noises continued, scratching and skittering metal on metal until finally, with a click, the lock released. Sakuragi crouched. The door swung silently open, the dim light of the corridor oozing into the cell like thick fog. And through that fog Sakuragi leapt like an enraged animal, swinging his fist into the place he hoped was the intruder's face. He missed his mark in his haste, and instead hit a glancing blow over someone's forehead.

The person gave an exclamation, more with surprise than with pain, and Sakuragi recovered himself immediately, drawing back his fist with more a ready aim, prepared to strike again.

Five long, ice cold fingers, reached out and wrapped themselves like spiders around his throat, squeezing hard. Surprised, Sakuragi tried to wrench himself away, but the grip followed him as if it were adhered to his skin. Frantically he lashed out towards this second intruder only to double forward with a gasp as a short, powerful blow to his kidneys knocked all coordination out of him. A knee in his stomach and then to his face had him reeling with surprise. He groped blindly with his hands, trying to make sense of the beating in the dark, hoping to hook his fingers on his assailant's clothes in order to orientate himself. But Sakuragi was dealing with someone who was far more at home in the dark than he.

Desperately he took a wild swing which connected with nothing, and then felt hands take firm and unrelenting hold of either side of his face, pulling him back against an unseen body, gripping his life firmly between two palms. There was not one ripple of hesitation in those actions. One snap of those hands and Sakuragi knew with absolutely surety that his neck would break. He froze.

No one spoke. There was complete stillness. The cell door had already swung closed again, returning the cell to its former blackness. The silent tension made all the hair on Sakuragi's arms bristle and quiver.

After a moment there came the sound of rustling as the other visitor picked himself up from the floor where he'd been knocked in the fighting.

"Fuck" he swore under his breath, giving a sniff as he wiped invisible hands over his face. "I can't see a fucking thing."

Sakuragi willed his throat to work. "Who the fuck are you?" he hissed. It wasn't Tetsuo. In fact, it wasn't anyone he recognised at all. Cold suspicion crept over him. "More fucking numbers? That shitty little rider isn't here. He's gone. Tetsuo took him off."

There was a brief silence.

"What rider?" the first boy, the one who had opened the door, echoed in bemusement.

Sakuragi grit his teeth in frustration. If they didn't know about Kogure, then that meant they had to be here because of Sendoh.

Involuntarily, his eyes skittered in the direction of Sendoh's bunk. If he fought any further than he already had, he would be putting himself in serious danger. Surely he didn't owe Sendoh that. He didn't owe Sendoh anything at all.

Suddenly, as if in response to Sakuragi's thoughts, Sendoh's voice cut through the darkness;

"Sakuragi?"

Three faces turned simultaneously towards the sound.

There was the urgent sound of movement as Sendoh became immediately aware of the strangers in the room. "Who's there?" He demanded, his voice low and aggressive.

_That's __right_... Sakuragi reminded himself in relief. Sendoh was not like Kogure. Sendoh was capable of defending himself.

The dangerous fingers that held Sakuragi in place suddenly squeezed him more tightly but almost immediately relaxed again, so with a sudden force of effort, Sakuragi was able to pull himself free and put as many steps between him and the shadowy figure as possible. No one bothered to try and grab him again.

He heard Sendoh draw in his breath. "...Kaede?"

The air turned still.

Sakuragi balled his hands into fists, tensing his body, ready for another struggle to break out. He was, he cautioned himself severely, in a roomful of numbers. Dangerous ones. But Sendoh's voice had changed the air. As if it had been punctured and the earlier aggression were slowly draining out. Sakuragi tried to keep up his wariness, but when no one else moved he began to feel confused. There was so much here he just didn't understand.

The sound of rustling intensified as Sendoh moved. Struggling, it seemed, to push himself out of bed after his extended period of sedation.

"Kaede?" he asked again. And then the darkness wavered.

Sakuragi watched as it seemed to condense into a semi-solid shape, the blurred form of the person who stepped through it. Insubstantial. More spirit than flesh. Formed of little more than the shadows he moved towards Sendoh, stirring the dark and the chill in the swirl of his clothes as he went. It was as if the room breathed him. As if he were the air in that sorry, lonely place; gathering up the darkness in coils.

_Rukawa __Kaede._

Sakuragi's hands went up to his neck where the lingering chill of those fingers remained like an ink stain on his skin. It was unnerving. Like someone had walked over his grave. How death had, for a few moments, held him by the throat.

"No fucking way," he mouthed under his breath.

His instincts told him to leave. Get out of the room. This wasn't his realm. This was way beyond his experience. Rukawa Kaede wasn't someone you could combat with fists and scuffles. He was like a ghost. Paranormal. And like most strong men, Sakuragi's only true fear was of something he couldn't use brute force to subdue. But the cell door was closed, and he had nowhere to retreat to in the tiny space.

The only option was to rally his courage, speak out again, bark and demand and try to establish some sort of control over the situation. It was pivotal, in fact, that he did, or else he risked being steamed rolled into submission. He even opened his mouth to speak when he saw the foggy outline of Sendoh's arms reach out to the blackness, to brush against it, to engage it in his stare, to speak its name as if to shatter worlds.

And Sakuragi found himself struck dumb.

Confused, he dropped his fists to his sides and stared.

He saw, very clearly in that moment, that they were beyond him. In their own sphere which he could see, but couldn't comprehend. That the normal rules of prison life did not apply here. That he was looking at something exceptional.

And he had misjudged him - this Sendoh Akira. This unassuming, quiet, trouble-stirring fool of a cellmate who seemed at once so naive, and so sure. He'd underestimated him. Grossly. Because Sendoh... Sendoh was something else entirely. Something so very different. From him. From all of them.

He did not fear the darkness, the unknown. He welcomed it, understood it, even commanded it. He rose above, unlike he, unlike they, who were sinking, sinking below, too stupid to even lament their fate.

Sendoh, Sakuragi realised in that moment, was not... afraid.

As for Kaede Rukawa, well, Kaede Rukawa had long been the symbol of their oppression. Norio flaunted him in their faces at each opportunity. One did not even need to know the history of the numbers to realise that this was The Example. The Warning. Power - smashed. Spirit - broken. The strong laid low.

But seeing them now made Sakuragi wonder. If Sendoh could free even Kaede Rukawa from Norio's chains... then perhaps, just perhaps, he could free all of them.

Sakuragi knotted his hands in the fabric of his shirt and stood in the centre of that cell with his heart pounding, feeling as if the world had exploded.

He'd been wrong. He couldn't have been more wrong. He'd been naïve to assume that Sendoh was becoming a number. Being sucked into their system, their ways.

No.

This was bigger, so much bigger than that.

Sendoh was… changing things. Moving things. As if he were a conductor, and the scattered remnants and outcasts of the prison were pulling together to become his orchestra.

Yes.

It was the numbers who were turning to _him_.

Sakuragi felt a hand on his arm and looked at the shadowy face of the person beside him, still wide-eyed and pale with revelation.

"Come on" the other one said with a toss of his head. "Let's get out of here. I'm fucking hungry."

Sakuragi barely heard him. He was aware that he was standing on a threshold. A dangerous one. He blinked, momentarily blank. This boy was no doubt another _number_. One of those that he hated. Someone he couldn't trust, that he didn't want to be associated with. But a final glance at Sendoh told him that, at the very least, he had to leave. That he had, as far as Sendoh Akira and Rukawa Kaede were concerned, utterly ceased to exist. It wasn't as if he had any idea where to go in the middle of the night. This wasn't the sort of thing that ever happened to inmates like him. He frowned but knew he really had no choice but to let it all slide.

With equal parts suspicion and curiosity, he followed the unknown boy who unlocked the door with a gentle shift of his fingers as though the complex system of high security locks were the simplest thing in the world.

The corridor was brighter than the room, what with the night lights that ran in a faint, glowing line along the ceiling. Some had guttered and faded out, but there was enough light to see clearly. For the first time Sakuragi was able to take a real look at his unexpected companion. The boy was shorter than he was. He wore his hair long to his shoulders and was scraggly and thin. His eyes held fierceness, but also a bright sort of energy.

"Keep to the right" the boy instructed, bright animation warming his voice as he moved swiftly forward. The manner in which he looked about, scanning the ceiling, the floor, and each corridor they passed with an exact, intelligent attention put Sakuragi in mind of some swift, quick-minded animal. A wolf, perhaps. But a wolf made more dangerous by its ability to play the dog.

Sakuragi had to walk swiftly to keep up. He stepped as quietly as his unhoned skill would let him, watching the boy's unguarded back.

_It __would __be __easy_, Sakuragi thought,_to __lash __out __at __him __now_.

He balled his hands into fists as if to do just that, but he made no move except to follow obediently. Everything this evening seemed to have taken on a new, unusual glow in Sakuragi's eyes. He had seen these corridors, these walls, these cell doors a thousand times before. But the prison had never looked nor felt as it did now that he was following Kyota through the alien silence.

When they reached a large, official-looking steel door, locked and bolted with a bright red warning sign of no entry, Sakuragi forgot all his concerns in the face of this new curiosity.

"What's this place?" He whispered as Kyota set quickly to work on the locks that barred them from entering.  
>There was no immediate reply, but when the door swung open to reveal a huge room of polished metal surfaces, massive stoves scrubbed and clean, Sakuragi gaped in astonishment. He'd never seen anything like it before.<p>

"The kitchen," Kyota grinned. "Hungry?"

If Sakuragi had had any intention of asking Kyota about Sendoh and his relationship with the numbers, the questions were knocked out of him now. He only followed Kyota inside, speechless, eyes and mind drinking in for the first time the magic the numbers were capable of performing.

* * *

><p>It was a satisfying kind of warmth. Though things didn't really make sense - how odd it was to see him here, outside of his domain and inside Sendoh's - but he was prepared to overlook that. He'd be prepared to overlook anything.<p>

He didn't notice Sakuragi and Kyota leaving. He didn't notice anything at all but Kaede. Kaede's thin wrists. Kaede's quiet breath. Kaede's eyes.

They had sat silently together for a long time. A little awkward. Aware, as before, of the distance between them now there were no bars to reinforce it. For a time they sat, only sat, and nothing more, until Sendoh became aware of the cold that was crawling up his calves chilled by the floor. He pulled his feet back into the warmth of the blankets, and it seemed natural that Kaede should do the same; entering his senses like a wave, breaking over him like warm surf.

Sensoh lay back on the bed and felt content, feeling Kaede near to him. It was... something. Not affection - there were high barriers between them still - but a strange kind of relief. It was not being alone. He closed his eyes and sighed.

It seemed strange that he should find a reprieve in a place like this. Just for a short while to feel safe. To feel private, enclosed, and unviolated. The warmth they shared was at such odds with the cold concrete walls and unforgiving metal bars. He didn't dare to touch him - that would seem like a transgression of some kind - but it was enough to feel the way the blanket stirred slightly with his breathing. The way the tips of his fingers tingled as if with static electricity.

And yet...

"You shouldn't be here" Sendoh mumbled.

Kaede turned his head and stared at him blankly. There was no pillow for the two of them to share. Sendoh didn't sleep with a pillow – but then again, Kaede already knew that.

"How did you get here?" Sendoh continued.

In answer to the question there appeared the quickest flash of something deep in Kaede's eyes. A brief, knowing glance. Just the merest glimpse of that old look he must have once had. _It__'__s __my __prison_, those eyes told him. _I __own __it. __I __rule __it. __I __will __go __in __it __where __I __will._

Sendoh felt like he ought to argue. Ought to convince him somehow to return to his cell, not to tempt the wrath of Norio nor expose himself to any greater risk than he already had. But he also saw, in that moment, that he had no chance of achieving any such thing. That Kaede Rukawa's pride was not something to be taken lightly. That it, and perhaps it alone, had sustained him through horrors that would have long broken another.

So he sighed and let it pass.

No one, least of all he, had any right to tell Kaede Rukawa what to do. Instead he closed his eyes and tried to breathe him in. His imperfections, his misery, loneliness and mistakes. All of it. And it seemed so familiar.

As the moments crawled by, far from sinking into a doze, Sendoh found himself growing restless, continually alert. Aware of something troubling him, but not able to name it.

And Kaede. Kaede. It was nothing that he did, not as such, nothing Sendoh could point out. It was more an appeal to his instinct. He was aware of the air, and that was all. It caused his heart to beat faster. And every time he tried to look away, to break the spell that was creeping over him, he couldn't help the scent of him that pervaded him with every breath he took. How every single one of his senses appeared to be tuned to him. Hearing his steady, shallow breaths and the warmth that was filling the air around them through their closeness.

He felt himself drawn to him beyond his capacity to resist.

_He __is __here_, Sendoh thought to himself, more in optimism than logic, _for __what __reason_? _For __what __other __reason __would __he __come __here __to __my __side __in __the __middle __of __the __night?_ It seemed so obvious. More so. With every moment they were close. With every passing second, the more reasonable and obvious it seemed.

To eliminate this distance. To bring it right down to zero.

He even managed to convince himself that his good intentions would make it all okay. After all, he didn't wish Kaede Rukawa any harm. And it was easy, so very easy to convince himself that it was what Kaede wanted. He was here, after all. And he wouldn't say no, after all.

So in spite of his lingering apprehensions, Sendoh found himself taking the first small steps forwards. First, lifting his hand to tentatively brush his hair. Next, softly pulling him closer, aware simultaneously of his frailty and his strength. Then, the pad of one thumb brushed over lips that did not shy away from his touch. And, Sendoh found, once this start had been made, it was not hard, not hard at all, to carry on.

It even seemed tender. Far more gentle than anything either of them had ever experienced. Sendoh did not dare to ask himself whether or not this made a difference. It was easier instead to close his mind to the options and simply press him against against the sheets and kiss him.

He tasted sharp and metallic. Ignoring the strange mixture of guilt and impulse to pull away, Sendoh found himself rewarded by a deep, sweet after-taste. Kaede was not soft or summery. He was not the bright scent of clipped grass or ripened berries in the hot sun. Nothing as alien or removed as that. He was the prison, just as the prison was him. But behind his sharp ferocity, Sendoh found a warmth and a gentleness that tasted somehow like home. He was not new, or different, or strange. He was familiar. He was old and lost memories. He was struggle. And survival. And just the faintest, faintest whisper of a world beyond these walls.

Kaede watched him through lowered lashes. Sendoh held his stare until Kaede's eyes fluttered closed, his lips parting slightly in invitation. Or surrender.

They grew hungrier. Gradually more fierce, more frantic. Sendoh fumbled with worn fabric and fibres, pushing them up until he could brush his palms over Kaede's cool skin. He could feel scars like uneven paths, uncertain patterns, criss-crossing his existence like a map. But he was not diminished by the marks. They suited him. His body had transformed only to more accurately reflect the monument of a soul that had always been inside him.

Besides, when Kaede moved, Sendoh's body reacted, as if they were connected by a string, oscillating with one another. Moving, like a pendulum, bound by physics. How could he escape this? Surely he couldn't stop it now. Surely his lingering misgivings were ill-founded.

Wasn't it natural? Logical? Obvious? Because Kaede moved, reacted, curled and arched and teased with complete willingness. Kaede allowed Sendoh to kiss him, even trailed his fingers over him, and moved for him without hesitation or reluctance. Entwined their tongues, held his gaze, did everything as if it were so, so right. And why not? Why should he stop? There was no need, no call, no reason for him to stop now.

In the end it was Kaede's ready consent that finally made Sendoh hesitate. It was too unreal, as if something wasn't quite right. Improbable that he should be so willing. So at odds with Sendoh's expectations.

This was Kaede, Sendoh reminded himself, so perhaps it would be impossible to ever really know what he felt. How he would react. How he understood what was happening, or whether violence and sex were even distinguishable in his mind.

Of course Sendoh wanted nothing more, in that moment, than to continue. To turn him over onto his hands and knees and take him. Just the thought of watching that beautiful, powerful tattoo, slippery with sweat, move and flash under his fingers, caused his stomach to pleasantly twist. He wanted nothing so much as the chance to push himself against the barrier of Kaede's soul.

But Sendoh had no wish to echo the things Norio had done to him. The things Liron had done to him. And although it seemed easy to do, somehow he knew it was only illusion. That to do it, to take advantage of someone who was so desperate and so trapped, would be a betrayal. Understanding, finally, that like this - like this - he could never be truly sure what Kaede wanted, and if he couldn't be sure what Kaede wanted, then it would be no better than rape.

And so, with more than an inkling of regret, Sendoh closed his eyes and tried to reign in his rapid breathing, to slow his furious heartbeats. Kaede's expression remained unreadable. No expectancy. No encouragement. Just the same quiet stare.

The prison authorities always turned a blind eye to the plight of riders – Sendoh knew that well enough. They considered it consensual because, more often than not, a rider walked into a cell knowing what would happen to him and did what was demanded of him without struggle or protest. Not because he wanted to, but because the alternatives left him no choice.

When Liron Kai had had control of Kaede, he had raped him. No matter what it may have looked like from the outside, that fact would not change. Perhaps Kaede had made no protest. Perhaps he appeared to have endured it all quite willingly. Because he had had to.

The same way, doubtless, he would endure Sendoh.

And that – just the thought of being _endured_ – was enough to quieten his desires.

Outside these walls. Outside this oppressive nightmare. Only then could he know for sure. And until then, he would wait.

He closed his eyes.

"Kaede?" he queried softly after a moment.

As expected, there was no response.

"You know, when I was a kid, my mother used to talk about a place she'd been to. One of the onsen retreats around Tokyo. She used to say she'd take me there one day but... well... you know." He tilted his head and shrugged his shoulders slightly. "She said it was the most beautiful place she'd ever been. The way you could look out across the mountains, see the mist rising. She said it was magical. I've always wanted to go and see a place like that. It sounds amazing, don't you think? When we get out here... I want... I want to take you there. I want to see it, with you."

Sendoh turned hopefully to see Kaede's expression. The boy lay passive and quiet, staring up at the underside of Sakuragi's bed.

"We will get out of here," Sendoh found himself promising, frustration dropping his voice into a low, certain growl. "I swear we will."

When there was still no response, Sendoh turned his eyes in the same direction as Kaede's and sighed.

The silence ached. Ached so much he felt like crying.

* * *

><p>Like Sakuragi, as soon as the door gave its first rattle, Maki Shinichi was awake. He was not in his usual cell but stuck down in solitary confinement, so the room was more secure and more difficult to find than usual. Nonetheless when he rolled out of bed he was greeted by the familiar face of Kyota Nobunaga, ghostly in the dark.<p>

Maki resisted the urge to roll his eyes. There didn't seem to be much point in asking Kyota how on earth he had managed to find him. As far as twenty-sevens went, Kyota was exemplary. "What do you want?" he grumbled groggily instead.

"Brought you something" Kyota replied cryptically. Maki waited, but the boy made no further move.

Maki raised a brow. "What?" he demanded, and Kyota stepped quietly aside.

It had been several days. Not very long perhaps, but still long enough to make him hungry. He hadn't changed. No, perhaps he had, but only to become more self-assured, more wonderful, more deeply rooted in Maki's soul. This fragile, dangerous thing.

"Jin" he stammered, pulling himself up off the bed.

"You look shit."

Maki stood in confusion, looking at his former student. Jin's eyes, even in the darkness, were cold. Maki wondered whether Jin had always hated him. Whether it was the doom of any teacher to be hated by their student. He had taken so much from Jin, he knew that.

Well, they'd come full circle now, situations completely reversed.

Looking back, Maki had not had an easy time of it by any means. He had struggled hard and long to achieve what he had. He had risen through the ranks of the numbers the tried and tested way - by bloodying his hands until they were stained and stinking, and obeying the sexual demands of the man who'd been his teacher for more years then he cared to count – yet he'd somehow clawed his way to the top, survived the numbers fall, and then built up his own gang. Keeping himself afloat, somehow balancing everything – gang members, Norio, enemies, himself – now seemed like one impossible juggling act.

Yes, it had been a long and difficult road for him. And after all that struggle, all that sacrifice, to have fallen to this. Finding himself ostracised and dependant on the mercy of his own student. It made him wonder whether it had all been worth it. Whether forcing Jin to his knees had been worth boosting himself up.

If he hates me, he realised, it is only his right.

Outwardly he scowled. There was a pretence he had to maintain. "What the fuck do you want?"

Jin did not answer but only stared at him with those eyes that seemed to be able to read every one his internal conflicts. It had always been hard to hide anything from Jin.

With deliberate slowness, Jin stepped further inside the cell. He looked around its cramped walls and low ceiling disdainfully.

"What did you do to get put in solitary?" he queried in a low voice.

Maki lifted a hand to touch the bruises on his face. "Got into a bit of a fight" he said, as casually as he could manage. He didn't for a second want Jin to think he couldn't survive by himself. He couldn't bear the thought of looking weak. "I came out okay. Mitsui and Kogure both ended up in the ward though."

Jin looked at him sharply. "What about Sendoh?"

Maki blanked for a moment, and then had to suppress a bitter laugh. "You mean your new favourite? Aren't you keeping tabs on him? Haven't you _fucked_ him yet?" His words came out like a spray of venom, but Jin didn't even blink.

Away by the door, Kyota shifted his weight awkwardly and it gave Maki a surge of maddened pleasure to discomfort Jin's most loyal lapdog. He wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what Kyota was thinking about whenever he looked at Jin with those eyes.

"So you haven't seen him" Jin clarified calmly, not rising to the bait.

Maki glowered but shook his head. "Not even a glimpse." It wasn't exactly a lie.

Jin pursed his lips slightly in annoyance.

"Listen" Maki said, becoming serious, "its obvious Norio has it in for that boy. The best he can do now is stay out of trouble, you know that."

"But _he_ doesn't care about that, and _he_ won't just lay low," Jin immediately countered, "You've met him. You know what I mean. He's determined. He... makes ripples... whatever he does. There's no way Norio will take his eyes off him for a second."

Maki shrugged, and Jin, finally letting his guard down for a moment, gave a sigh that filled the whole room. The sound of it was enough to bring Maki's well-hidden emotion into his eyes so that the stare he fixed Jin with was not the hostile look he intended, but one tempered by affection. He knew, after all, the troubles Jin was facing now. He knew what it meant, how much it cost, to lead.

"This... this _thing..._" Jin waved a hand in a broad sweep, indicating the cell, the prison, the world in general "...is getting bigger and bigger." He gave a troubled frown. "It's already beyond anyone's power to stop. Not you or I, not Sendoh, not Norio, not even Kaede Rukawa can stop this now."

"No one but Stanley."

"Ah yes, Stanley."

The crease of concern deepened across Jin's smooth brow. There were too many players in the game. Too many different aims, interests, things at stake. They were hurtling towards a conclusion, but who would gain, and who would lose, was anyone's guess. Maki knew it and didn't envy Jin's position at the head of the gang now. He didn't think he'd take it back for anything. Not with Stanley Q thrown into the equation.

"He's dangerous... isn't he?"

Maki sat himself back on the bunk and stretched his arms over his head, staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Well, I never met him, of course," he twisted his lips slightly as if tasting something foul, "but everyone knows he single-handedly built the Tokyo sect out of little or nothing. He's somehow managed to drag himself from nowhere to the very peak of the Tokyo underworld. So, dangerous?" he smiled grimly, "Yes, I would say he is dangerous. Very."

Jin stared at him, hard, before looking away. "This is coming, whether we like it or not."

"Yes it is."

With controlled motion, Jin sat himself on the bed next to Maki and stared at his hands. "It's annoying, all these... vested interests."

Maki looked at him from the corner of his eye. "What will you do, if things turn bad?"

Jin turned his head to meet Maki's eye straight on. There was no uncertainty in his stare. "I'll kill them," he replied, "I'll kill every single one of them."

Maki could not help the grin that cracked over his lips. With one smooth motion he reached out to seize Jin's neck and drag him forcefully against his mouth. This boy. This angel faced monster. He could taste him until he died and it would never be enough. Utterly sensational. Who else, Maki wondered, who the hell else would stare down ridiculous odds with a declaration of genocide? Dear god but he loved him, him and all his gorgeous violence, more than anything in the world.

Jin struggled and pushed him away, and Maki was reminded that he no longer had the right to him. This one who for so long had been his to possess so absolutely. No longer his to touch or to comfort, to adore or to pull apart piece by agonised piece.

He looked up into Jin's brightened eyes. Drew his gaze over languid, shimmering lips and knew he was not the only one who ached in the dissolution of their partnership. It gave him a powerful rush of satisfaction to see how much Jin still wanted him.

_You __want __me, __but __you __cannot __give __yourself __to __me. __You __cannot __allow __them __to __think __you __are __weak. __Because __now __you __are __the __one __who __must __rule, __must __dominate __ and __over-power. __How, __then, __can __you __satisfy __your __desires? How can you lead them, but surrender to me?_

Jin's eyes lit up with sudden anticipation and he stared at Maki as if he'd just had an idea. It occurred to Maki that Jin suddenly resembled a cat eyeing a mouse.

"Suck me off" Jin commanded slowly, rolling the words as if testing them. He'd never uttered such a phrase in his life, least of all to Maki.

Kyota lifted his head in abrupt astonishment. Maki raised his eyebrows in cool scepticism.

As if to prove his seriousness, Jin reached down to opened his fly. "What?" he taunted, an mocking smile growing over his face. "Forgotten how to do it? I've sucked you off a thousand times, can't you return the favour?"

Maki tried hard to summon his outrage. Outrageous. It was outrageous. That Jin had the audacity to demand such a thing. From _him_. From Maki himself. It was utterly unthinkable. Why, he ought to... ought to...

He found himself licking his lips thirstily.

_Pride._

Wasn't it meant to be a hard thing to overcome? Then why...? Why was it so easy? Maki had been a leader among the numbers when Jin was still nothing more than an acolyte. Maki was a fighter, a killer, a powerful and dangerous man. Yet he found himself rendered helpless under Jin's cold-fire stare.

So he puddled himself willingly on the cold, unforgiving floor between Jin's legs and realised how fragile pride could be. It was no defence. No defence at all against hot desire. Yes, he probably would have done this months ago, if Jin had ever asked him to.

So Maki closed his eyes and was forced to accept what he'd become. Required to acknowledge that this had probably been his fate since the first day he'd seen the elegant twenty three tattooed onto that thin wrist.

In any case, _this_. He could be satisfied... with this.

Away by the door, all but invisible, Kyota said in a mutter they didn't hear that he needed to go back and check on the guy he'd left in the kitchen. Then he vanished swiftly out of the cell.

* * *

><p>It wasn't until nearly noon on the following day that Kogure became aware of the smell of antiseptic. The airborne tendrils of the aggressive cleaning solution comfortingly familiar to him.<p>

He lay still and imagined that he was waking from a strange dream. Imagined that he had somehow fallen asleep on his shift at the hospital, and if he opened his eyes the familiar, surgically clean corridors of his past life might be revealed to him.

He savoured the illusion, clinging to it as if by the forced of his fierce wishing it might come true.

He opened his eyes.

He was laying in an uncomfortable bed, one of three that lined the wall of the small prison infirmary. He had no recollection of how he had got there.

He took a moment to lie and simply stare at the ceiling, aware of the dull aches and pains that seemed to cover his entire body. He tried to gently move his fingers, and thankfully met with success. Then he carefully attempted to sit up, only to discover that his right wrist was handcuffed to a bar at the side of the bed - standard procedure. He gingerly lifted his head to look down at himself, bruised but intact, and most definitely still alive. But why? How? He'd been so sure he was done for.

He let his head fall to the side.

A squeak of pain escaped him as hurt flashed like hot knives up his spine. He screwed his eyes closed in a wince, before slowly opening them again. Then something caught his attention and he froze.

_Tears_.

They blossomed like so many fragments of glass over his lashes, shattering his vision. He tried to blink them away, but they kept coming. Frustrated, he shook his head in an effort to clear his vision and he stretched out his arm as if to reach for the water on the side-table. The shape of his outstretched fingers blurred, distorted. He struggled to focus his eyes beyond them as the memories returned to him more and more clearly.

Mitsui, unconscious, beaten, motionless on the next bed.

So Mitsui had come. He had come back to find him. Kogure screwed his lips closed tight in pain.

Why? _Why?_ The only helpless echo that ran through his mind. _Why_ - only to turn out like this? How stupid he was. Stupid, _stupid_.

Kogure's lower lip trembled. He was angry. He was so, so angry. So, so sorry.

He tried to move closer, tugging at his wrist in frustration, but the handcuffs did not permit him to leave his bed. So he stretched his arm as far as it would go, wanting to touch him, to see if he was okay, but Mitsui was too far away to reach. So Kogure lay with his mind black, feeling sadness opening up inside him like a hole. And the tears. So many tears. He wiped at his eyes as if to swat them away, but still they came.

It was a long time before he could bring himself to try to make sense of his situation.

Eventually, still blinking away tears, he looked around him at the familiar ward. He'd been here several times before.

There was just one doctor's desk in the opposite corner. As always it was stacked high with paper and various objects that space restrictions did not permit their own storage. Behind the desk were several locked metal cabinets containing, Kogure knew, patient files and medication.

Away to Kogure's right he could see a glass door and window leading to a small secure room with a single bed. A room for infectious patients. Or dangerous ones.

The unpleasant, sickly smell of antiseptic was everywhere.

Once again Kogure tried to sit up in order to look about more clearly, but the movement caused pain to rise and echo all over his beaten frame like dust disturbed over the seabed. He only groaned and collapsed back against the pillow.

Then he noticed a motion over to his left, and moved his eyes to watch as the ward door opened. A man dressed in a doctor's white coat appeared, looking somewhat harassed and carrying a large pile of papers. He stumbled inside, cursed - loudly - and dumped the files onto the already crowded desk with a grunt of annoyance.

Kogure watched silently until the doctor turned and noticed his stare. His lips turned slightly into a half-smile, half-sneer, and he approached.

"Well, well, well," he began. "_Kogure __Kiminobu_."

Kogure only blinked at him without recognition. The doctor's eyes flickered in a swift, unfriendly fashion over what Kogure knew must look like a broken male whore and his bloody beaten pimp. "Well, how are you feeling?"

Kogure glared up at him. "Where's Dr. Matsumono?" he demanded.

The doctor raised a brow. "Not here, obviously." His voice dripped with something unpleasant. Irony? Kogure was too hurt and bitter to worry about it. "Matsumono is on sick leave" the man went on to explain, "and I am usually posted... elsewhere."

Kogure could only glower suspiciously. He had no love for the prison staff - they had failed him too many times before - but this man appeared particularly unpleasant, even by their standards.

His eyes flickered regretfully down to the handcuff that bound him to the bed. It wouldn't do to provoke this person - not when he was this helpless.

He decided to let his eyes close and simply pretend to be sleeping.

The doctor did not move away from the bedside.

"You know, I always wondered what had happened to you. I didn't expect to find you like this, that's for sure."

Kogure's eyes snapped open again.

"You don't remember me, do you?" The doctor continued, that unpleasant smile lingering on his features, enjoying Kogure's confusion.

Kogure swiftly considered the man again, and this time, recognition hit him. A little older, he'd grown a moustache and shortened his hair style, but now Kogure looked closer, he realised he knew this man. He'd seen him before. Many times before.

He nearly gasped, so strong was the rush that started in his heart and thundered in his head. The sudden realisation that finally, finally, Norio had made a mistake. That the path forward had just been cracked open like a nut.

"Ishizuka" he croaked, his voice disbelieving. This was a stroke of luck beyond anything he could had hoped for. Who would have thought that such a crooked, immoral bastard would still be working in Fukushima three years after the numbers had fallen?

Ishizuka stared down at him, still with that unpleasant twist appearing at the edge of his lips. "Surprised to see me?"

Kogure was momentarily dumb, frantically trying to piece a plan together in his mind. Trying to work out how to make the most of this opportunity.

This man... he'd traded with him so frequently in the past. Ishizuka had been a new doctor back then, stuck in the prison as part of his internship. Kogure had helped him out a couple of times, given him some advice, earned his trust, and in return Ishizuka had been willing to run a link between Kogure and the outside world, as long as the price had been right. Messages, goods, information, protection, sex. That had been their currency back then.

Kogure looked at him now and knew he'd never get a chance this good again. All the twenty fives had had their own methods, but Kogure had specialised in corruption. It had been his business to bribe crooked personnel like Ishizuka. At one point he'd commanded perhaps a dozen different trade routes in and out of the prison. Since being transferred to block T, however, all his former contacts had been cut off. All those weeks and months spent building up relationships with guards, assessing their suitability, working out how to needle them, with bribes, with blackmail, or with threats, the network he'd spent years painstakingly building had all been wiped away. And yet here stood perhaps the one remaining link in the chain, seeming like a dream and yet as real as the metal hoop around Kogure's wrist.

Was it too good to be true?

"Why..." Kogure stammered in surprise, "...haven't I seen you... here before?"

Ishizuka drew himself up, almost with pride. "I don't normally waste my time in the medical room," he sniffed with disdain, "I work directly for Norio doing... his stuff."

"His stuff...?" Kogure repeated in confusion, only to stop. It was suddenly obvious to him. Ishizuka was so corrupt, surely Norio would only keep him around if he actually needed Ishizuka's particular brand of silence, and what else could Norio possibly need to deal under the table with a doctor for except... well... perhaps it was a long shot. But it wasn't that unlikely. Not really. Rather, Kogure realised, the more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed. In fact, it was a distinct possibility.

His eyes slid to Ishizuka's expression and he knew he had no choice but to gamble on this. The only question remaining was how much Ishizuka already knew about the boy in the dark.

He took a deep breath.

"Ishizuka..." he began, "...I have a... trade... that might interest you."

The doctor looked momentarily surprised, but then smirked contemptuously, as if it were a bad joke.

"You've got to be kidding" he retorted. "What the hell could I possibly need from you? You have nothing at all that I would want."

Kogure lifted his eyes. "I have information" he replied coolly.

Ishizuka folded his arms and looked unconvinced.

Kogure took a breath to steady his resolve. He needed to play this just right. _Flash __all __your __cards. _He advised himself severely. _You've __got __so __little __to __play __with __- __better __make __a __show __of __it._

"Listen," he began confidently, hardening his voice into complete surety. "To speed this up, I'll make some things clear for you. You know that boy - the one Norio is fucking with - Rukawa Kaede? Well, he's one of ours. We know exactly what Norio's doing, and we're going to make him pay for every fucking second of it."

Ishizuka's look of disdain slowly froze over at Kogure's words. So much for secrecy. He was torn between attempting to deny the whole thing outright, or acknowledging that Kogure obviously knew it all already.

After a moment of internal conflict he seemed to reach a decision. "How the fuck do you know about that?" He demanded weakly.

"Norio is buying your silence, isn't he?" Kogure continued, bulldozing tactically onwards, hoping against hope he had read the situation right. The continued pale pallor of Ishizuka's face seemed to confirm his theory. Heartened, Kogure continued, "how much is he paying you?"

"I don't think you-"

"It's not enough" Kogure interrupted almost as soon as Ishizuka opened his mouth. "Whatever it is, it's not enough."

"What are you talking about?" Ishizuka demanded, finally rising to the bait.

Kogure smiled knowingly, pleased that the doctor was already looking slightly discomposed, that control was flowing steadily back to his side.

He tried to keep the flush of smug victory out of his voice. "Well you see..." he began, trailing off suggestively and looking away to the side, as if in deep deliberation about something. He could almost feel Ishizuka's impatience radiating in waves. _Just __a __little __more..._

It felt good, Kogure realised, to be playing the old games. He felt as if he could choose. As if he had the power to affect his own life. Like he was a number again. He held back his emotions as he feigned a change of heart and shook his head remorsefully. "...no, it's probably not worth it."

"Don't play your games with me" Ishizuka warned with a scowl.

"I don't want to end up Norio's next little... _project_," Kogure countered. "Besides, _you've_ got nothing to offer _me_."

"What do you want?"

"Nothing."

"Fags? Cannabis?"

Kogure waved a hand. "That's kid's stuff."

"You tell me then."

Kogure feigned a long look of indecision, staring uncertainly off into space for longer than strictly necessary. "Well... we always need more pins..." he began doubtfully. Ishizuka nodded encouragingly. Pins were a staple with the numbers - they were cheap, easy to smuggle and exceedingly useful. But if Ishizuka thought that would be the only request, he was disappointed when Kogure continued "...plus... let's see... maybe... three lighters? Six two-litre bottles of coca-cola. About a hundred metres of tin foil. Oh, and two bottles of Clorox bleach."

Ishizuka stared at him. "You're making bombs," he accused immediately.

Kogure smiled vaguely back, as if he didn't understand the comment.

"I can't do that." Ishizuka protested.

"Yes, you can. Leave them in your office. I'll send someone to pick them up."

Ishizuka ground his teeth. "I don't even know what your information is worth."

"I'll be giving you Norio's neck on a chopping block. As for what that's worth... well... you can work it out yourself."

"Fine. Fine." Ishizuka ran a hand through his hair irritably, "Let's hear it then."

His heart beating rapidly, Kogure managed to fix his face into earnest seriousness. "So. Rukawa Kaede - the twenty-three Norio likes playing with..." he dropped his voice conspiratorially, and Ishizuka leaned closer to hear. "He isn't a normal prisoner. He's one of the leaders of the numbers from way back."

"And?"

Kogure rolled his eyes. "You don't get it? One of the leaders. You know, _the __six_?"

Ishizuka furrowed his eyebrows, "you mean..."

Kogure nodded. "Yeah. I mean he was executed. Four years ago. According to the official records, that is."

Ishizuka's face rapidly changed from pale to flushed as his eyes widened. "You can't be serious. Norio... Norio's too smart to do something that dumb... I mean, why the risk? There's plenty of others he can play with, if that's what gets him off. I mean... it's easy to explain away torture, but it's another thing entirely to account for someone being alive who's supposed to be dead."

"He's got backing..." Kogure revealed cryptically, "...from someone major. Compared to him, Norio is just small fry. If it's money you want..." here he whistled suggestively, "...you might say I got the keys to the bank vault right here."

"Who is it?" Ishizuka demanded earnestly, leaning forward in eagerness, eyes alight with greed.

"If you want to know..." Kogure said with a small smile, "...talk to me again, once you've got those supplies I asked for."

Ishizuka's expression crumbled slightly as he straightened himself up. He looked like he wanted to argue, but in the end didn't bother. He'd traded with Kogure enough to know that Kogure was not easily tricked.

"Oh!" Kogure lifted his eyes suddenly. "One more thing I forgot..."

Ishizuka scowled. "You can't go changing the price now..."

"It's nothing much," Kogure reassured him, "just a letter I want to send."

"A letter?"

"That's right."

"To your wife?"

"Who else?"

Kogure smiled innocently while Ishizuka watched him with suspicion. "Bullshit" he said finally. "What the hell are you really planning?"

"Ishizuka..." Kogure sighed, "...you can trust me. Hasn't my information always been valuable before? Haven't I protected you from the gang? Working with me has never brought you any problems, has it? You're my only link to the outside world. You're _valuable_ to me. Why would I waste it by cheating you over something so small?"

"Because _now_ you're desperate" Ishizuka pointed out suspiciously.

"And that's why I am giving you the best information I have for such a small price. A _letter_, Ishizuka. You've posted dozens for me before. Just one letter. That's all."

Ishizuka chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, before sighing. "Fine. But whatever you fuckers have got in store for Norio, I want you to keep me out of it."

"Guaranteed."

"Where is it then? This letter of yours?"

Kogure smothered his grin. "Bring me some paper and a pen, and I'll write it out for you."

Ishizuka huffed and moved away to find some writing implements on the messy desk across the room.

In quiet relief, Kogure let his head fall to the side where he met Mitsui's half-lidded eyes gazing directly back at him.

"_Well __done_" Mitsui mouthed silently.

Kogure felt a warm and pleasant flush fill him up. Perhaps this was what happiness felt like. He turned his eyes to the ceiling and sighed, suddenly entirely unaware of those hurts and pains his body still endured. Feeling lighter, knowing that he had at least in part repaid his debt to Sendoh Akira. Feeling almost hopeful, trusting blindly that everything would work out as they hoped. Revelling in the blissful ignorance of those who cannot know what the future holds.

~tbc

Ans: I heading off to Canada on holiday tomorrow for three weeks! Thank goodness, because I need a break from work. Things are very stressful at the moment, and I haven't much time for writing. Hopefully things will improve from now on, and I shall be able to get this story to its conclusion sooner rather than later. In the meantime, thank you so much for sticking with me patiently! I really appreciate everyone's support! ;D


	21. Chapter 21

**Dimonyo-Anghel**: You're very welcome! I hope you enjoy this one too :)

**Loveless Raine**: Heehee I always seem to end up bashing Kogure around a lot in my fics! Whoops ._. ! Although to be fair he is still Mitsui's superior so he does deserve some awesome moments, particularly after all I've put him through...

**Addicted to SD:** This was supposed to be a simple story, but I'm quite glad it got as complicated as it did, because I've had lots of fun meeting new characters from SD who I haven't used before (I tend to stick with Shohoku + Sendoh) – I'm really glad to meet the Kainan boys :) Particularly Jin! He's been so much fun!

**Anita**: OoooH I'm glad it's just your computer – I was worried! Hm originally I was going to take the Senru further in the last chapter, but in the end it just didn't feel right. I realised Sendoh wouldn't do that, so I edited it all out, and I'm glad you think it's better that way :) Definitely pushing ahead with the story now so things should start moving forward a little faster!

* * *

><p><strong>Thine Own Palace<br>****Chapter 21**

Time swims.

Bakes itself hard and dry in the sweltering heat of summer, when even the tables in the shade are too hot to touch. When the ground is dry with dust and stones, and even spilt blood soon turns from a splash to a stain.

There was no hint, none at all, of the drama that was to be soon played out in that hot, stagnant place.

Yes, the summer was a hot one.

Flies buzzed through the sweltering dining hall, crash landing lazily to sip and suck at salted skin, greased hair and the hot stench of bodies.

And the weeks echoed with Stanley's silence.

In one place, deep inside the relative cool of the cell block, there was a small service corridor. It ended in a locked door to a store room that was no longer used. There, in the corner formed by the wall and the locked store room door was a unique sight within the prison. A small slot, barely ten centimetres wide, high in the wall, and filled with glass such that in this place, and this place only, there was what might be described as a window. It was bared and dusty but through it one could see a tiny patch of blue. A small square of sky.

It was this place that Sendoh found, and in this place where he sat, staring silently upward, imagining that if he were truly lucky he would be able to fly out of there. Sitting and watching and wasting away.

He felt, quite irrationally, that this small vantage was a way of watching for Stanley's arrival which, he felt sure, must come. Any day. Any day now. Certainly it wasn't much of a view but it was superior nonetheless to the endless internal corridors full of cells, not a single window to tell if it was night or day.

The inmates who spent mealtimes in the open air dining hall suffered the unpleasant effects of the maddening summer heat, but had an access to the sun, to the sky, that Sendoh found himself craving. A concrete cage of electric lights was no state for a soul. Sometimes he felt the place would drive him mad.

But the window calmed him.

In the evenings he returned to Sakuragi, the only person he ever saw any more, and would stare up at the ceiling of the cell, delirious with hunger and with half-remembered plans, sinking ever further into a lethargic depression.

Today, as he did almost everyday now, Sakuragi passed him some salvaged remains of the evening meal. A soggy fist of over boiled cabbage and a thin crust of bread. Sendoh devoured them with gusto. A couple of weeks ago he had still been sensible enough to feel guilty for taking a potion of Sakuragi's already meagre meal, but he was long past that now. If the lack of sun didn't drive him mad, his hunger would. He pressed a hand against his stomach bracingly.

Even riders got to eat.

Sakuragi's eyes were pitying as he watched Sendoh suck the last traces of cabbage from his fingers. Sendoh did not meet his stare. He knew he was without options. He had chosen this path. Now there was nothing left to do but to follow it.

It had been weeks, and there had been no noise. No stirring. Nothing to break the monotony of days. Unusually, Norio had not been seen. He, whose hold over the prison had been so absolute, seemed to have retreated. Disappeared. Gone from this place that had once been his playground.

Gone? Sendoh didn't truly believe it. Not in the least. But it didn't bode well at all. Because if Norio was hiding, then what had happened to Kaede?

Though he hated to think it, even Sendoh had to face up to the fact that Norio's retreat suggested only one thing - that Kaede was dead. No matter how he looked at it, he always came to that same conclusion.

Whenever thoughts of Kaede entered his mind, he would plant his palm against the rough concrete wall beside him as if to steady himself. As if something solid would protect him from the clouds of uncertainty that obscured his vision.

Not knowing. Not knowing for sure. It was agonising.

It had been only weeks, but it felt like centuries. Sendoh had hit Kogure when he'd found out what he'd done. How he'd sold Kaede out to Ishizuka on a hope, a vain hope, a _whim_. All he'd seen at that moment had been rage and burning bridges. Of course logic told him that Kogure's choices had been limited. Of course he knew that Kogure had had to make a difficult judgement in a short moment of time. Perhaps it had even been the right one. Perhaps, given the same set of circumstances, Sendoh would have done the same. A gamble that had had to be made.

But he just couldn't accept it. Hated everything and everyone for all the risk, all the gambles, that fell on Kaede's neck alone. Why was it Kaede who had to pay the price for every move they made? Why was it Kaede who suffered so much? Kaede - whose death was the price of their one and only chance.

He couldn't accept it. Couldn't bear it. Not at all.

It seemed obvious to him that Norio was retreating in the face of Ishizuka's blackmail, probably seeking to erase what evidence he could. Right now, the likelihood of Kaede still being alive seemed hopelessly remote. Norio would be a fool to keep him alive now.

Sendoh rolled over and pushed his face into the mattress as the nightly alarm ran once, shrilly throughout the crowded cell block. It was followed by the mechanical clunk of the electronic locks sliding into place for the night, trapping Sendoh and Sakuragi inside their cell. The guards trawled casually round to confirm that everyone was in their proper places, and then five minutes later a second alarm sounded, and all cells were plunged into heavy darkness.

Sendoh closed his eyes and made a futile effort to relax his overly stressed mind. He did little more than doze as he plunged in and out of nightmare after nightmare. Things chased him - huge, dark shadows hounding his steps. Sometimes he turned and fought, sometimes he fled. But he could never save him. Every dream showed him the same thing: Kaede's death, Sendoh's failure.

It must have been a little after midnight when a noise woke him. He opened his eyes to see that there was light entering the room, and turned his head to see that Kyota was standing in the doorway. This time, however, there was no Kaede behind him.

"Get up" Kyota said bluntly. "Jin's called us all in."

Sendoh's head felt improbably heavy as he lifted his body from the bed. He was coated in cold sweat. His arms trembled under his own weight. "What does he want?"

"I don't know," Kyota replied, "Just move, will ya? I have a lot of doors to get round."

Sendoh felt unsteady on his feet as he got up and made the two short steps towards the door. His joints ached and his head rang. _I'm__dying_, he realised, though he remained eerily nonplussed by the fact. It didn't seem to matter much.

He felt eyes on him, and turned to see Sakuragi watching from the upper bunk. His eyes were two black pinpricks of suspicion in the darkness.

"Coming?" Sendoh asked.

Sakuragi's response was to sniff haughtily, and roll over to face the wall.

"No." He replied shortly. "Fucking numbers business nothing to do with me."

Sendoh shrugged.

"Sakuragi." Kyota acknowledged the other man with a casual greeting.

"Kyota" the reply came gruffly, without a look back.

Sendoh and Kyota shared a quick glance, and without further words, left the cell.

They all met in one of the bathrooms; a large and unpleasant space with hard edges, cold sinks and the lingering echoes of persecution. Sendoh hadn't dared to step into a bathroom since leaving the Yunta gang. As far as trouble went, the bathroom exceeded even the dining hall as a threat to an unaffiliated inmate. Sendoh could sense that he wasn't the only one made ill at ease in a place such as this.

It was dark and full of whispers and shadows. The only light filtered through from the corridor. The dark tiles were uncomfortable to sit on, but they were all used to discomfort by now. Sendoh noticed that all the people around him were filled with hollows. A spectrum of thin and unhappy faces. The _Kings_ were on their knees. He felt guilty, sitting there, knowing that he had had a hand in bringing them down to this. Feeling that they all probably hated him.

Sendoh noted Mitsui and Kogure among the gathered, but sat away from them. He felt poisonous. A space appeared naturally around him. Suspicious looks were sent his way. It seemed others thought him poisonous too. He didn't belong here.

Jin walked to the centre of the room, silencing the whispers and drawing all attention. The ghostly heads of showers protruded menacingly from the walls above him like shrunken heads on pikes.

"This" Jin began quietly, "cannot continue."

The silence was rapt. Desperate. They hung to his words as if he could save them.

"We are forced to meet in the dead of night. Our right to gather in our own territory, even to eat, has been taken away from us. We hide in the shadows and scavenge like dogs. This cannot continue."

He paused and looked round at them all, his eyes deep in shadow and anger.

"Have we forgotten what we are? We are the strongest fucking gang ever to have existed. This prison? We ruled it. This isn't some fucking unknown section, this is _T-Block_. This is the _birthplace_ of the numbers. Don't you remember?" He glared round at them all. "Yes, things have changed but we are still here. We are still skilled, strong, organised." He licked his lips compulsively. "Are you really just going to starve to death in the shadows?"

There were mixed mutterings about him, but Sendoh's attention was riveted to Jin. He seemed... different. Yes, he had always had that small, slender form and eeriness about him. That frightening, almost homicidal loop to his eyes that make him seem somewhat deranged, a malfunctioning mind. Yet now he seemed something more. He seemed to somehow... know himself.

Truly, Sendoh realised with a small smile, Jin had found himself a place. Here, like this. A man who was born to lead. Born to fight against adversity. Another time, another place, and perhaps history would have sung of him. Sendoh could picture him waving a flag on the French barricades, walking on the Salt Satyagraha, or standing proud among the students of Tiananmen Square. But Jin was to be denied historical immortality. He was trapped here, with the rest of them, and the shine of his existence was doomed to rot on the rubbish heap of humanity. The rest of his life had already been forfeited. And yet somehow, in this small and hopeless place, he still found a way to know who he was. To _be_ who he was. And Sendoh could only admire him for that.

Watching Jin he suddenly remembered Kaede's words – _Be __thine __own __palace._

_Be thine own palace, or all the world's thy gaol._

Watching Jin he closed his eyes and felt his chest clench painfully.

_Yes, __I __get __it. __I __understand __it,__now_. _What __you __were __trying __to __tell __me..._

_...Kaede._

He reminded himself that Kaede was dead, felt the familiar rise of frightened panic in his lungs, and tried to force himself to listen to Jin's words.

"Tomorrow," Jin was continuing, looking around at each of them in turn, "we put a stop to this. Tomorrow we are going to enter the dining hall and claim a new territory for ourselves. We are not going to hide any longer."

The looks exchanged across the dark bathroom were mixed. Would Jin's words be enough? Sendoh looked around at all the faces of uncertainty.

It was true that these men had once been greatly feared, but it was also true that they had been spectacularly broken. Most of them would have seen their friends and their allies literally torn apart in the violent riots that had punctuated the numbers' fall. Most of them would have come close to death themselves. Sendoh's eyes flickered towards Kogure and he felt it. That fear. He could feel it built up like walls in their eyes. And he had no right to judge them. Because he knew exactly what it meant... to be afraid. To be terrified into total paralysis.

"They," Jin spat the word with venom, tossing his head vaguely in the direction of the dining hall, "they are all just morons. Idiots. Squabbling among themselves, totally unaware that they are Norio's pawns, trapped in his game. They have nothing but brute force and stupidity. They hate us, but they fear us too. And there is no reason to play by their rules. We don't need to fight fist for fist. We have enough skills here, in this room, to run rings around any of them. All we need to do is plan, unite, make our move and reclaim our place at the top of this godforsaken hell hole."

Sendoh glanced around and saw that heads were lifted slightly. Hopeful. Jin certainly sounded like he had a plan, something that would work, and that had managed to ignite just that small feeling of possibility. Perhaps. Perhaps Jin alone might be enough.

"There can no longer be uncertainty" Jin continued quickly as the atmosphere began to take on its own momentum. "What we need is unity." He paused, and then said; "Kogure Kiminobu."

Jin's stare went directly to where Kogure sat by Mitsui, and all eyes in the room did the same.

Somewhat surprised by the sudden, intense attention, Kogure shifted, startled.

Jin spoke; "You and your student Mitsui are invited to formally join the gang of the _k__ings_. You will acknowledge the leaders of the gang, receive its protection and be expected to devote the same energy and loyalty to it as you did the numbers gang, of which we still form a part."

Kogure glanced only briefly at Mitsui for confirmation before inclining his head. "We accept."

"Then I charge you to complete you duties as befitting the numbers you bear."

They both nodded this time. "We will."

Jin barely allowed himself time to nod before he spun sharply on his heel.

"Sendoh Akira."

The name sounded heavy on his lips. It seemed as if his words to Kogure had merely been preamble to this, his real business.

The tension increased as the gathered gang mates shuffled and strained their necks to get a good look. Sendoh ignored them, and kept his attention firmly on Jin. His heart was suddenly beating frantically against his ribs.

"No one," Jin spoke seriously, "in the past four years has been initiated into the numbers gang. However, I would like to offer you that chance now."

The silence did not break, but Sendoh felt the swift, excited exchange of glances going on around him. He swallowed. He felt ill.

"The numbers are a gang of murderers." Jin continued. "We accept no failure. We defend our rules with blood. Join us, and we will protect you and provide for you beyond your imaginings. Betray us, and I will take great pleasure in killing you myself."

There was just a flash of anticipation in Jin's eyes. Sendoh did not doubt his words. He nearly shuddered; the thought of dying at Jin's mercy was somehow terrifying.

But then, he reminded himself, he was already dying slowly. So what the hell did he have to be afraid of now?

"What would this... _initiation_... involve?" he asked.

Jin smiled, a long stretch of thin lips to reveal pretty, square teeth and an innocent face turned hungry. A spider watching a fly.

"It was very long and complicated. I've shortened it, but the most important element is still the trial."

"Trial?" Sendoh waited for Jin's explanation, but recalled what Sakuragi had already told him. _One__kill_.

"You have to kill a person - someone who I choose. Others can help you, but you must strike the final blow yourself."

"And why is this necessary?"

"It is to show you are ready to do whatever it takes. I have already told you, we do not accept failure or half-heartedness. If you want to be a number you need to put aside irrelevant ideas of morality. There is only one law in prison: kill or be killed. We didn't make that rule, but you can't deny it's the truth."

"So... which person?"

Jin's eyes darkened. "Tetsuo."

Sendoh sucked in his breath quickly, and when he spoke again, his voice came out strangely weak. "I know that man," he muttered.

"He deserves to die," Jin replied coldly.

"Yes," Sendoh replied heavily, "yes, he does." That, at least, Sendoh could agree with.

"Then, that is the nature of your trial."

"I'm going too!" someone suddenly spoke up, and Sendoh looked across the room to see that Mitsui was on his feet, his hands balled into fists. "I'll be damned if I let fucking Sendoh kill him before I've had a chance to pound that bastard's fucking face in."

Mitsui's outburst seemed to break whatever spell the room had been under, and all at once enthusiastic discussion broke out throughout the bathroom. Jin looked displeased that he had lost his audience, but was momentarily at a loss over how to recapture them. There were several outspoken complaints about the wisdom of allowing Sendoh to join them at all, in voices that carried loudly against the echoing tiles, filling the midnight space with the chaos of sound. The meeting dissolved rapidly into disruption. And in the midst of it all, Sendoh closed his eyes and tried to ignore them, and to think.

It wasn't an easy thing to do.

After a few minutes had passed, the eruption of conversation died back somewhat, and Sendoh finally opened his eyes. In a voice that quietened the room again, stated: "I have one more question."

Jin turned back towards him.

"I want to know what gives you the authority to initiate me into the numbers gang." Sendoh asked. "The gang is, after all, completely scattered. No one here is one of the six leaders. If I do join, will the other numbers in other blocks really recognise me as being one of them?"

A ghost of a smile flickered on Jin's lips. "You are questioning my seniority among the numbers, Sendoh Akira."

Sendoh looked back at him and, after a moment, nodded. Jin may have managed to become the leader of the _kings,_ but as far as the _numbers_ were concerned, he was just a junior. He was nothing.

"It is not my rank that gives me this authority, but my number," Jin answered, in a distinctly cool voice. He moved his arm to reveal his inner wrist and the elegantly set twenty tree written there. "Twenty threes handle all elements of numbers law, including recruiting new members. Even the lowest twenty three - such as I - has the authority to recommend a candidate for initiation. My offer is, you see, entirely genuine."

Sendoh swallowed slightly. He had offended Jin in asking the question, but he had his answer now. There were no barriers. Nothing at all standing in the way between he, and what he had wanted so badly.

"In that case," Sendoh replied with all certainty, making up his mind and meeting Jin's eye straight on. "In that case... I refuse."

* * *

><p>Back in his small service corridor, gazing up at his window, Sendoh had the chance to ponder whether or not he had made a mistake. He tried to imagine them, what they would be doing now - preparing themselves, no doubt, for whatever scheme Jin had had in mind. Perhaps it was already in action. Perhaps there was fighting in the dining hall right now.<p>

He hadn't said anything, but Sendoh couldn't help but wonder in hindsight whether Jin had been counting on his support. Whether he'd let him down at the last minute. Let him down, even after everything Jin had done for him.

After all, it wasn't as if killing Tetsuo were beyond him. True, he'd never killed anyone before but he felt sure - quite sure - that in Tetsuo's case he could make an exception. Besides, he realised, there was no logical way he could have performed any so-called trial so quickly. It had been a formality that Jin had had to follow, and the truth was that Jin had probably simply wanted him there, today, at the moment when they needed him the most.

He wondered if he shouldn't go and find them. Throw himself in in support at this late hour. Would they welcome it, his interference? After he had betrayed them so thoroughly? It had been rude, he realised. It had been utterly rude of him to refuse them.

Everything just seemed very far away. The prison, all its inmates, had taken on an insubstantial, distant quality. Sendoh felt lethargic. He just couldn't bring himself to care about anything any more. He was tired. And Kaede dead. He tried to keep telling himself that, trying to get used to the idea.

He frowned unhappily. The truth was that he hadn't joined Jin because of Kaede.

Kaede.

The reason for everything he did these days.

Kaede was a twenty three, the same as Jin, but he had never, not even in his most lucid moments, mentioned that Sendoh ought to join the numbers. Quite the opposite in fact, Kaede seemed filled with regret over the things he had done, what he had become. Somehow, Sendoh found himself believing, Kaede wouldn't want him to make those same mistakes. Kaede wouldn't want him to take that road.

Sendoh shuffled his feet closer together and put his forehead on his knees with a sigh. It had probably been a terrible mistake. If Kaede was already dead, what was he supposed to do? He was entirely without motive, without aim, and now even without the one gang that might have accepted him. Alone. Utterly alone.

Refusing - he felt more and more certain with each moment that passed - had been a fucking stupid thing to do.

Perhaps he really should go and find them. Go and help them. Perhaps there was still a way to earn their trust back.

He lifted his head, half intending to do just that. He saw with despairing eyes his hugely reduced world - one empty corridor, one locked door, one dirty window and one solitary soul - and he felt his isolation more keenly than ever.

He could do it - he could kill Tetsuo - but then he would die here. The real reason no number had ever left the prison apart from Stanley Q was because the real price demanded by the numbers' infamous trial was not simple _morality_. The kill was superfluous. It was the _life sentence_ you got for it that really made you a number.

He turned his eyes to the window and tried to think clearly. Except there was nothing, nothing at all that he could think that could solve his problem or sooth his mind. He was so panicked, and so out of options that at first he didn't even notice what he was looking at.

It was several minutes, in fact, before he finally he saw it. His heart skipped a beat. He got up slowly, his eyes fixed on the new sight, he mind frantic to identify it and what it meant.

Smoke.

At first a little, then increasingly more, pumping from some source somewhere in the grounds of the prison, black and ominous.

He felt suddenly excited. Could it be Stanley? Had he set fire to a part of the compound somewhere?

He craned his neck to try and see the cause of the smoke, but what with he being so low and the window so high, he could make out nothing. Yet he had to see.

A thought struck him. Wouldn't he be able to see more clearly from the dining hall? With its open sides it was as close as he could get to outside without Kyota to open the external holding doors for him. With a sudden rush of adrenaline in his veins, Sendoh forced his starving body to run.

He clattered around corners, his feet flapping against the concrete floor, cells flashing past him as quickly as he could make them, yet not quickly enough. The corridors suddenly seemed endlessly long. Was it really this far?

He ignored his sickness, the dizzy feeling that lightened his head and weakened his knees, causing him to stumble and graze his fingers on the rough wall. He took no notice of anything but what he needed to do, where he needed to go. If Stanley were there he had to meet him, needed to take him to where Kaede was, help Kaede to escape. It didn't matter that just a moment ago he had thought Kaede already dead. All that was forgotten now. He'd never truly believed it anyway.

Sendoh didn't have a plan beyond getting to the dining hall. All he had to do was find Stanley and then somehow – miraculously – everything would work out. Kaede would escape. Kaede would be free. Whatever might happen after that did not concern him. Whether Sendoh should be killed, or tortured, or forced into every kind of humiliation didn't matter any more. There was only one promise that he wanted to fulfil. Only one way to counter the terrible prophecy of his dreams.

He took the final corner at a run and skidded into a world he hadn't entered since he'd watched Kaede snap a man's neck. That sweltering hall that constituted what passed as a _society_ in this warped place. It might have been momentous, his dramatic return, but nobody noticed him at all. They were all looking at Jin.

The ringmaster.

Jin had a shank between his teeth, and another in his hand. There was blood streaked across his cheek, and running down his forearm. There were three bloodied, crumpled bodies at his feet. He looked so absolutely mad that even Sendoh stopped in his tracks.

Maki stood right behind him, utterly colossal with bruised, bleeding knuckles and wild eyes. Sendoh had not seen him since his expulsion, but he might have known that Jin would be hiding him somewhere. Jin was all together too good a strategist to let such a powerful fighter simply disappear.

It seemed they had succeeded in taking the dining hall by surprise. Not unexpected, Sendoh felt. After all, they were unfamiliar faces suddenly appearing from nowhere. A reasonably large and experienced gang that most of the inmates hadn't even realised existed. Small wonder they could cause such confusion simply by showing up.

The kings had wrested control of one of the benches from the Splinter gang, whose members were now either standing aside in furious disbelief or moaning on the floor in agony. The kings stood around their new patch of territory possessively, glaring at anyone who looked like they would dare to speak out or challenge them. They were not, Sendoh noticed, making any show of their numbers. There was no point, he realised, in adding any fuel to this fire.

The room was nonetheless filled with smoke. Some sort of explosion seemed to have blown the table in the far corner, that which had once belonged to the Yunta gang, into nothing but smoking shrapnel. No doubt another part of Jin's pantomime. But the smoke in the dining hall was not the same smoke that Sendoh had seen from the window.

He took only a brief moment to survey the carnage the kings had wrought before remembering his real purpose and looking up towards the thick boundary wall. The thick smoke was issuing from something burning just beyond the perimeter of T-block. He could just about make out the flames over the top of the wall, pumping out a rising column of black.

As he looked, his whole body turned utterly cold.

He didn't need to see the source of the smoke because all of a sudden he knew exactly what was burning. That now-familiar block. That dark, hateful building that had housed all of Kaede's agonies.

No, it wasn't Stanley causing that smoke signal; it was Norio.

It was the last vestiges of evidence burning rapidly to the floor.

And for the first time, Sendoh began to truly believe it. Not just a matter of logic and reason, but in his soul. It was as if the light in him had finally guttered. The realisation that Kaede was really gone, and that he had truly failed.

He found himself at the wire fence, clawing at it desperately, totally unaware of anyone around him. He wrenched furiously at the metal, suddenly overcome by a violent, angry grief. And he was screaming. Screaming his name until his voice broke. The wire rattled violently, like some thrashing metal snake under his hands, but the brackets did not give way. He was yelling and he was crying until all his energy was exhausted and he fell to the floor in an agony. There was movement around and near him, but he didn't know. He didn't know anything. It all had ceased to exist.

The only picture in his mind was Kaede's body lost among those flames. Ash. Disintegrating to nothingness. Every single remnant of him... _lost_. Ceasing to exist.

It is doubtful that anything would have been able to reach Sendoh in such a state. No physical comfort or harm or voices of mockery or condolence. He was beyond all that. There was only his pain and the one irrefutable truth – Kaede was dead.

He could have lost himself for days in the stupor of his torment. He could have fallen there, his fingers still linked in that fence, never fulfilling the legacy Kaede had entrusted him with. Never bringing justice to the man who had caused so much suffering. So easily the story might have ended there for Sendoh Akira.

But it didn't.

There was a gunshot. A loud, unmistakeable crack. And his eyes were open.

It seemed Sendoh had commanded so much of the attention that no one had noticed the group of five unknown men who had simply walked into the dining hall. However, they certainly noticed them now.

The men were all armed, like a guard might be, but there was nothing official about their look. They wore casual clothes, leather and rugged, and a couple of them had cigarettes dangling from limp lips. They looked more akin to the prison convicts than to any guards.

Taken totally by surprise, the inmate of T-block looked at the newcomers in utter bemusement.

"Dogs!" The front-most man shouted to them all, gesturing emphatically with one hand to gain their attention. "Listen the fuck up. Do what I say or I'll put a fucking bullet in your skull. I am not bullshitting you."

With a casual motion of his hand he turned towards the closest inmate - one of the displaced Splinter gang members - and without any warning whatsoever fired a shot straight into the man's thigh. He went down immediately with a howl of pain. The rest of the inmates flinched in surprise, and turned wary eyes upon this new, unknown adversary.

"Now you are all, and I mean all of you, going to put your hands on your head. Now!" The man brandished the gun at them threateningly and, with nervous glances towards one another, all fifty of them slowly lifted their hands as they were bid. Sendoh remembered thinking to himself how, if they rushed all together they could probably overpower the five men who were holding them up. It was a futile thought. No one was prepared to risk facing such guns on behalf of each other. They were all of them enemies. Even those in the same gang competed with one another. A truly fragmented society, exactly as Norio had envisioned it. They were left powerless by their divisions.

"Good" the man sneered, and turned away for a moment to glance behind him. "All set" he called out.

Like the group who had so easily ambushed them, the man who entered the hall now was unknown to seemed a little older, perhaps thirty or forty, with a thick head of bleached shoulder-length hair that was streaked with grey. He walked with a limp, but seemed otherwise strong. A long scar stretched from his forehead, down across one eye to end on this cheek. The eye socket that it bisected was empty.

This man strode confidently into the centre of the hall and, ignoring all evidence of chaos around him - the smoking ruin of a table, the moaning wounded on the floor - went directly to one of the remaining benches that seemed to take his fancy. With casual surety he thumped one thick, black boot onto the seat and swung himself up to sit upon the tabletop with an agility that seemed to defy his age and build. He settled himself there, as if sitting up on a throne, and glanced around at the place – the concrete ceiling, floor and wooden tables with cold consideration.

"Well now" he sneered, and under the lift of his lip, Sendoh saw two gleaming rows of golden teeth.

The man crossed his legs with casual arrogance and proceeded to remove his jacket, laying it aside. Underneath his clothes he wore a vest top, revealing arms and chest that were solid muscle, a powerful wall of strength. But Sendoh's eyes focused only on one thing.

The tattooed _twenty three_ that stood out on the side of his muscular neck.

"Isn't it _good_ to be back?" Stanley Q commented with a smile that set all the hair on Sendoh's neck on end.

He understood finally the mistake he had made.

Compared to Stanley Q, Norio had been a mere inconvenience.

_Here_, he realised with a feeling of abject cold, was an _enemy_.

~tbc

ANs: NaNoWriMo 2012 starts TOMORROW! I'm all set to go (not really... not at all...) and I'm going to be uploading my efforts this time to FictionPress! You can find me through my FictionPress pen name Star711 or check my profile page for the link. I will be trying to upload my attempts every day (in their unedited, unfinished state), so feel free to follow along!

This does unfortunately mean no work on Thine Own until December (sorry sorry! And it was just getting exciting too, right?). On the upside, we're pushing into the closing arc so yey! I'm looking forward to the conclusion of this story :) I hope you are too!

See you in December!


	22. Chapter 22

**loveless raine**: hihi ~ thanks for another review! Sorry to leave you on a bit of a cliffhanger. Nano went well – I really like the story I created this year so I'm hoping to go back to it and edit/rewrite/finish it properly sometime in 2013! Happy new year!

**Mrsklemzak**: hey, actually I haven't read Rainbow, but someone else also mentioned it to me as a prison-related manga. I looked over it briefly and it looks interesting but the art is somewhat childish I thought (I would love it to be a little darker!) I'll have to check out the anime series now!

You are right in your observation – Sendoh has never killed anyone before. He was convicted as a car thief. Hmm – I guess you could say that Sendoh is on the verge of a revolution?

**Addicted to SD**: I know, I am bad for always ending on cliffhangers (I did it again with this chapter too, opps!) but I do like to entertain myself into writing the next chapter lol. I want to know what happens next toooo! I'm sorry for leaving Kaede out so much, but his time will come :) Thanks for your review!

**Anita**: Hey! Sorry you're still technologically challenged! I hope you get your computer problems sorted out soon (I can't imagine living without a PC... even if it was broken at least I've still got my phone etc etc.) Perhaps you should make the most of the hermit-lifestyle while it lasts lol. Thanks for your merry Christmas mail, and happy new year to you too!

* * *

><p><strong>Thine Own Palace<br>Chapter 22**

"Let me make this clear for you," Stanley began with a smile, glancing around at the fifty or so inmates who were clustered about the place. No one moved. Everyone listened to him with rapt attention. What was it, Sendoh wondered, that gave this man such influence? The ability to turn all heads. What exactly did he do, did he say, that made him so different?

Stanley continued, seemingly enjoying himself. "The idiots who are supposed to run this place are currently... indisposed. So _we_ are in charge. Don't worry; we just have a little... ah... _business _to take care of. Once we've got what we came for, we'll be gone, and you can have this shit hole back." He smiled broadly. "And so, first things first..." he lifted his eyes to one of his subordinates who remained by the door to the cell block. "...find Norio. Bring him here."

Sendoh glanced quickly at those around him, but no one met his eyes. They were all staring at Stanley, their faces empty of expression, as if they didn't dare to look away even for a moment. Sendoh wondered if they were afraid.

Ignoring the stunned and silence faces around him, Stanley reached into his boot and pulled out a packet of cigarettes, tapping it against his leg to dislodge one, and pulling it out with his lips. He lit it leisurely and lent back on his hand, sending a ring of smoke into the air.

Sendoh watched his lips move, forming an 'o' around the white smoke. He watched the way the inked twenty three on his neck shifted against the cotton neck of his vest. He saw the small golden hoops in his ears and how his grey-streaked hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. He didn't look like the sort of man who was easy to fool. His eyes were knowing ones, like he'd seen, and done, and enjoyed, a thousand ugly things.

Norio was authoritative, and fierce, and cruel, but there had always been a sort of pantomime quality about the whole thing. As if they had known, in the end, that it had all been for show. It was Norio's _job_ to maintain order - and he did it well - but that was all. But Stanley was different. He didn't go home at the end of each day. These things, this place, that coldness; it was not his job, it was his life, his _choice__. _And Norio was merely an imitation of that.

They heard the returning footsteps, although no one dared so much as glance towards the door. Sendoh only listened as the footsteps approached from somewhere behind him, and finally Norio came into view. Stanley's man walked menacingly behind him, gun still in hand.

Norio marched his way through the gathered inmates without a glance left or right. His face held fury. He stopped in front of Stanley's throne of a bench and glared at him. Sendoh felt his heart hiccup in nervousness. What would happen, now that the tables were turned? Now that it was Norio's turn to be at the mercy of the numbers?

Stanley looked down at Norio with amusement.

"Norio," he greeted with an ugly smile. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Norio only scowled. Was he uneasy about being called up in front of the inmates over whom he had exerted such power? Could he really endure being humiliated in front of them?

Sendoh watched him closely, but it seemed Norio was made of the same kind of steel as Kaede was. He glared at Stanley as if he were an annoyance rather than a vision of terror. Such pride. Sendoh couldn't help but be impressed by Norio's courage. In such a situation, to still be able to hold his head high.

"Stanley," Norio said finally, his voice low and angry. "How the fuck did you get in here?"

Stanley licked his lips slowly and grinned as he pointed to the ceiling with one finger. "Chopper's on the roof. She's a hot little thing. Comes in useful at times like these."

Norio took in a breath as if to speak, only to let it out again in an irritated sigh. His eyes compulsively flickered around the gathered inmates. "Is it really necessary to do this out here?" he demanded.

Stanley sneered, his curling lips revealing the flash of golden teeth underneath. "What? Do you think we'd be more _comfortable_ in your office? No. Here will do just fine. This was _my _office, don't you know? Back in the days."

Norio only scowled. "Why the hell did you go and burn down my quarantine block?" he asked angrily.

Stanley leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees, his eyes intense as he stared Norio down.

"I was clearing up some shit. That _doctor_of yours? I sorted him out."

Norio did a brief double-take, even as Sendoh's breath stilled in his throat in his effort to listen.

"...Ishizuka's dead?"

"Well..." Stanley's expression changed to something unidentifiable. It was hard to call it a smile, because it made Sendoh feel so sick to his stomach. "...he wasn't exactly dead when we locked him in there." His eyes flickered pointedly towards to fire that still ravaged about the block that had once been home to Kaede. "But it's a pretty safe bet that he's dead by now."

Norio's reaction was unreadable. His face turned utterly blank. Not the barest flicker of emotion entered his eyes, one way or the other. Sendoh frowned. Well, perhaps Norio believed Stanley may have actually done him a favour, considering that Ishizuka had probably been attempting to blackmail him.

But still... something didn't seem quite right. Stanley. Had he really killed Ishizuka? Why? Surely he'd never met him. The doctor had just been acting as messenger. It didn't make sense.

Sendoh turned his eyes from Norio, to Stanley, and back again, and for the first time it began to dawn on him that something was amiss. Norio's attitude... didn't seem quite right. He was far too at ease, considering the man before him was no less than the head of the Tokyo Sect. It could be an act, of course, but Sendoh wasn't so sure. Despite the situation, Norio still seemed to have control. It didn't feel like he had relinquished the strings to this puppet show.

These two enemies.

Norio - the prison overseer. The man famed for bringing the numbers down. He'd destroyed them, ruthlessly. He'd stood aside and watched as so many of them had been slaughtered in some of the worst ways imaginable. Norio _hated_ numbers. Everyone knew that.

And then Stanley. Stanley was a member of the numbers himself. The mark on his neck proved it. And not just any one either – he had been one of the six. Now leader of the infamous Tokyo Sect, he had become the most powerful of them all.

Still Sendoh couldn't shake the feeling that he had... missed something important.

"So..." Stanley was continuing in his typical, smirking tone, "...how's our Minister Tsuki? Has he made any _progress _bringing down the Tokyo Sect yet?"

Norio raised a disapproving eyebrow and did not answer.

"Of course he hasn't," Stanley answered his own question with a laugh. "What a moron he is. I can't wait. I nearly can't wait. Do you think... do you think he suspects anything?"

"After the dramatic entrance you've made today?" Norio responded with distinct disapproval. "I think even Minister Tsuki will be able to figure it out."

"Perfect," Stanley continued happily. "I want to see his face. I want to be there when he discovers that it was me all along."

Norio pursed his lips slightly. Sendoh blinked in surprise. He turned his eyes from Stanley, to Norio, and back again, and in that moment, the truth hit him like a truck.

_It's_ _Norio_. He realised. _Norio...__is __working__ with __Stanley._

But the next moment he shook his head. _But __that's... __that's __impossible. __He __brought __down __the __numbers. __He... __he __was __the __one __who __killed __the __six. __And __what __he's __done __to __Kaede. __How __can __it __be?_

Stanley's expression had turned quite gleeful. "And what about Liron's kid? Does he know? Do you think he knows that it's me?"

Sendoh felt coldness creeping up from his feet and taking hold of his entire body.

Norio shrugged. "It's impossible to say."

"Hm," Stanley lifted his fingers to his chin. "Another reunion I've been looking forward to. He was a good looking boy. No doubt you've fucked him right up, haven't you?" He looked enquiringly at Norio who rolled his eyes slightly.

"He isn't exactly what he used to be."

"You know, I still can't imagine him in my seat. Head of the twenty-threes – what a joke." Stanley's voice seemed dismissively casual, but Sendoh caught a look of something more intense in his eyes.

Norio squeezed his lips together as if he wanted to say something, but knew better than to do so.

"Well, never mind that now." Stanley jumped up from his seat, suddenly animated, and crunched his cigarette under his heel. "Deal with Tsuki first. There'll still be time to play with the kid later. Oh..." He stopped mid-sentence and looked towards Norio. "Didn't you say you had something for me?"

"That's right." For the first time, Norio's expression changed, his lips turned upwards into something resembling a smile. "A little surprise."

"Oh yeah? What?" Stanley demanded, lifting his eyes to look around the hall, trawling his eyes over the inmates around him without recognition.

Norio had no such hesitation. His eyes went directly to Sendoh.

Sendoh sucked in his breath. The silence was like a drum in his ear. It was definitely him. There was no mistake. Norio was looking right at him. He felt like a maggot under a microscope.

Norio said nothing, but strode in his direction, shoving inmates aside with the palm of his hand as he made his way over to where Sendoh was standing, half numb with astonishment, half expecting it to be a mistake. What could Stanley possibly want with him? Surely Maki – who had dealt with Norio, a former head of the twenty eights – or Jin – one of the new leaders of the numbers – or Kogure, who had been the one to contact Stanley – or anyone, anyone else at all.

After all, what had Sendoh to do with anything? Sendoh, who was not even a number.

He thought of Ishizuka's sorry fate and tried not to feel afraid.

Norio seized him by the front of his shirt and hauled him back through the path he had made towards Stanley. Sendoh allowed himself to be dragged forwards with a stumble and wide eyes only because he couldn't see what else he could possibly do. No one else moved, although doubtless they were all watching intently, probably also trying to understand what the hell was going on.

With a fierce shove at his back, Norio sent him tumbling to the ground in front of Stanley, scuffing his knees and palms on the concrete and making them sting. He tried to gather himself up, but immediately the weight of two men – one with a knee in each of his shoulders – crushed him face down against the floor again so that he couldn't even look up to see Stanley above him. So that he had nothing but the indignity of a faceful of dirt.

"And...?" Stanley's disembodied voice above him wanted to know. "What the fuck am I looking at?"

"This..." the smirk on Norio's face was audible in his voice, "...this is Rukawa Kaede's student."

Sendoh growled in annoyance and attempted to struggle against the men holding him down. "I'm not..." he began, but a vicious kick to the face silenced him.

"Are you serious?" Stanley breathed in surprise. "How is this possible?"

"Well..." Norio replied with a satisfied drawl, and left it at that.

There was silence, until Stanley gave a cold snort of amusement. "So even dead men can hope."

"He doesn't look like much, I know," Norio added. "But he's more than he appears. Just like ricin. One drop can poison an ocean."

"Interesting. Let him up."

The painful weight of elbows in his shoulders lifted, and Sendoh scrambled to his feet. He clenched his fists and glared at Stanley, though he had no words to shout. He struggled to think of a single thing to say. His mind was still reeling from the realisation that Stanley and Norio were working together, though his disbelief was rapidly giving way to anger.

Stanley only smirked at him, leaving the silence like a noose around his throat.

"He never betrayed you," Sendoh managed to spit finally. "And you... you..." His anger won out over his tongue. There were no words to express his rage. It had all been for nothing. Kaede's agony had all been futile. A complete and utter sham. He had never, ever, felt fury like this before.

"Amusing," Stanley said with a smile, as if watching a monkey performing tricks. "Naive, but amusing."

Sendoh's muscles trembled with emotion. He felt like a lion could have burst out of him. His hands were shaking fists as he struggled to hold himself back.

He could leap forwards. He could swing at Stanley, at Norio, but then he would lose. He had to be smarter than that. He needed to wait, to choose his moment with care. He couldn't let Kaede down now. Not now that the snake had appeared at last.

But it was hard, so hard, to dispel the red that filled his vision like a flag to a bull. Every cell in his body demanded that he fight. The release of action, of pain, was a craving in his veins. The world tipped around him.

He fought his instincts with everything he had, and after a vast struggle within himself, managed to unclench his fists.

Stanley tipped up his chin and watched him critically.

"I see. You _are _an interesting one." He watched Sendoh thoughtfully for a moment longer before turning towards his men who, up until now, had stood silently, their eyes set on the crowd. About them the inmates still waited as if they had been paralysed by their stares.

"I want this prison locked down." Stanley barked briskly, with an energetic snap of his fingers. "We've got stuff to do. Get these dogs into cells."

Sendoh waited, expecting to be dragged off, beaten up, maybe even shot. But Stanley only gave Sendoh one last, piercing stare, and said nothing more.

Instead he turned away, snatched up his jacket and nodded to Norio. The two of them made their way out of the hall without a backwards look, Norio hurrying slightly to keep up with Stanley's long strides. Sendoh was left where he had been standing, a little way apart from the others, only staring after them.

There was immediate movement and an outbreak of speaking that was swiftly silenced by a bullet fired into the roof canopy.

"You heard him!" One of Stanley's men barked. "We're locking this place down. Move!"

"And if we find even one of you out of place..." another added, waving his gun menacingly, "...boom!"

The crowd began to move, everyone trying to keep their eyes on the guns as they began to shuffle their way towards the cell block. No one seemed to be paying any particular attention to Sendoh. He waited for only a moment before he too joined the crowd, winding his way discretely towards Jin and the others.

There didn't seem to be many options, but at least they could end up in a cell together. Their only advantage seemed to be that Stanley's men would not know who belonged where.

Floating nearby, bobbing their way through the crowd, Sendoh noticed Kyota and Maki, Mitsui and Kogure. A little way back, Hanamichi's shock of red hair was noticeable above the heads of the others.

They were herded like cattle along the corridors, the crowd thinning out as inmates peeled off into cells. Sendoh knew where Jin would be heading - the old kings' territory would doubtless be the easiest place for them all to meet up.

Thankfully no one was inside by the time Jin arrived with Sendoh right behind him. They moved inside, and gradually the rest of them filed into the room. Even Hanamichi appeared, somewhat uncertain, in the door frame, and Sendoh gestured him inside. They each took a bed and sat silently as the remaining inmates wandered past the door, looking for a cell. None of them looked at each other. There were a thousand things to say, but each of them knew it was essential to remain quiet. At least for the moment.

Kyota was the only one who did anything, rummaging around under the bed he sat on, and emerging victorious with a glossy porno mag clutched in his hands, freshly liberated from its hiding place in the mattress springs. The front page pictured a bare-breasted woman staring lustily out at them. Kyota grinned triumphantly.

If Sendoh thought Kyota was going to settle back and start reading it, he was mistaken. Instead of looking at the pictures, Kyota swiftly tore out three of the pages and folded them into one thick square of paper. He jumped up and went to wedge it securely between the bolts of the door's locking system.

"That's the oldest trick in the book," Mitsui commented with a sneer. "They're going to see it."

Kyota glanced back and grinned at him.

"Stanley's men aren't convicts," he replied. "They won't see anything." He flung the remaining pages of the mag back under the bed.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, when an unpleasant face peered through the door and proceeded to count them, he gave no notice to the small paper wedge in the door.

"Hey!" he hollered down the corridor in a deafening voice, spying the remaining empty bed. "There's one missing here!"

Sendoh cursed under his breath. There were only seven of them in an eight-man room. They couldn't draw attention to themselves by refusing an eighth inmate, but they couldn't risk some outsider sitting in on their conversation either.

"No, it's me," came an unfamiliar voice from outside. "That's my cell."

"Hurry the fuck up then, you little cunt," the man snapped impatiently and, thankfully, withdrew.

They all looked towards the door curiously as the last boy stepped into the room. His blue eyes moved towards the paper in the lock, seeing what Stanley's man hadn't, but he quickly looked away again as if embarrassed he had noticed it.

Sendoh knew him at once and opened his mouth in surprise to protest, but it was Kogure who spoke up first.

"..._Fujima_?"

The boy squared his shoulders and looked from Kogure to each of them, trying to mask his fear. He had that familiar look of desperation about him, just as Sendoh remembered him. His form was wiry and thin, with eyes that flickered around nervously like prey.

Sendoh couldn't imagine what he was doing here, of all places. The little beaten scrap of a rider from Yunta.

Fujima cleared his throat and visibly steeled himself.

"You... you are numbers."

It wasn't a question, although his voice, despite his effort to masculate it, carried as thin as the rest of him.

For some reason, the eyes in the room looked to Sendoh to answer. He hardly knew what to say. Were they numbers? Weren't they?

"No. We are not numbers." He said eventually with a sigh, his voice sound heavier than he had intended. "We are related to them, but we are not the same."

The room was quiet, but at least no body seemed prepared to disagree with him. Not even Hanamichi reacted. The large man's eyes moved quickly and curiously around the room, but he did not protest Sendoh's words. He who – as Sendoh had heard often enough – hated the numbers indiscriminately.

Fujima pursed his lips slightly, his eyes now glued to Sendoh, perhaps having mistaken him for the leader.

"I want to join you," he said.

Nearby, Maki scoffed. "Well we're not accepting applications," he said shortly. "Especially not from trash like you. So fuck off."

Fujima ignored him, his eyes remained on Sendoh, waiting for his response as if Maki hadn't even spoken.

Sendoh hesitated, and ran his hands through his hair. He had nothing against Fujima, but this was the last moment. They were on the verge of chaos. There was no way they could accommodate another rider to protect.

"Why?" he asked finally. "Why should we accept you?"

Fujima's eyes narrowed. "I will be useful," he replied.

Mitsui made a theatrical show of rolling his eyes. "We don't need another whore, if that's what you're offering."

Fujima's eyes flickered over to Mitsui and, very slowly, he tugged down the neck of his shirt to reveal the twenty four on his collarbone. All of them stiffened perceptibly.

"I will be useful," Fujima repeated, his voice like ice.

Kogure leaned forward, his eyes brimming with confusion. "You're a number? You never told me."

Fujima looked towards his old riding mate and rolled his eyes slightly. "You didn't tell me either. Probably because neither of us wanted to fucking die."

Sendoh saw that Mitsui was opening his mouth to join to argument and decided to interrupt. "What do twenty-fours do?" he demanded, looking around questioningly.

"Twenty fours were information gatherers," Kyota supplied immediately. "Spies, if you will. It was their job to _know_."

"Well, this isn't the time for _knowing_," Maki interrupted irritably. "This is the time for _action_. What's he going to do; go and spy on Stanley for us? We're way past the point when he could have been useful."

Fujima turned his eyes on Maki coolly. He seemed to be gaining confidence now that they were discussing him seriously.

"Maki Shinichi," he said calmly, and Sendoh noticed the way Maki's head turned, surprised that this unknown boy knew his name. "There is a lot I already know which you could make use of. And a lot that I already know that you would prefer me to keep to myself."

Maki folded him arms at the threat and scowled. "I've got no reason to be afraid of you."

"No?" Fujima smiled slyly. "So you don't mind them knowing that you've sunk so low as to suck off your old student? Such devotion."

They all looked immediately at Maki who flushed a sudden, angry red. Jin also sat bolt upright in surprise.

Kyota let out a low whistle. "He's good," he said. "I thought I was the only one who knew."

"Wait wait wait..." Mitsui waved a hand, "...are you saying that Jin's _fucking Maki_? For _real_? No way. _Seriously_?"

Maki scowled angrily, or tried to, but before he could say anything to defend himself, the alarm rang shrilly through the block and all the cell locks engaged simultaneously. The familiar clunk of metal on metal echoed up and down the corridor, except from the king's room where the lock made only a soft thud.

Sendoh turned back to Fujima thoughtfully. He sighed. It wasn't as if the boy could leave now, even if they wanted him to.

"All right," he conceded. "I guess that means you're in."

Fujima nodded his head slightly in recognition, and Kogure gestured him over to the remaining empty bed. "That one's yours."

"Now can we please figure out what the hell is going on?" Kyota said.

"Okay..." Jin nodded towards Sendoh, "...you seem to have the best grasp on all this stuff. Start at the beginning. Tell us everything you know."

Sendoh pursed his lips slightly, "I don't know much. I only know that some years ago the numbers helped Stanley escape so that he could set up the Tokyo Sect. After he left, Kaede - who was Liron Kai's student - became head of the twenty threes in his place. Norio told me that it was because Liron wanted to expand his influence that he helped his student take Stanley's seat."

"Well," Kyota held up his hand, "_that_ doesn't make any sense, for a start."

"What doesn't?"

"Why would Liron want to help Rukawa?"

Sendoh frowned, confused. "Like I said, Liron was already big among the six, and he wanted to control the twenty-threes as well."

"But, it doesn't work like that," Jin said with a frown. When Sendoh looked blank, Jin explained. "Once a student reaches the same rank as their teacher, they end their apprenticeship. One he became head of the twenty-threes, Rukawa Kaede should have been free of Liron Kai."

"Well..." Sendoh continued with a deep frown, "I don't know but... Norio _did_ mention that Kaede was the only one of the six considered to be a rider."

"Why would anyone voluntarily remain a student?" Kyota wanted to know.

There was silence.

"Well," Sendoh finally interrupted their thoughts, "we don't know, so let's just move on. The next thing that happened is that Norio became overseer after Stanley left."

"About two years later," Maki confirmed.

"And although no one knew it, he had actually been sent by Stanley."

"Which explains how he was able to bring a gang as powerful as the numbers down." Kogure added. "We never understood it before, but now we know. He already had all the inside information he needed. With Stanley behind him he knew everything about our tactics, our codes, our methods. It was so easy. It was a joke."

"But for what purpose? Why did Stanley want the numbers brought down?"

"Maybe, since the Tokyo Sect was flourishing in its own right, the numbers were just dead weight for him to support? He wanted to cut us loose." Mitsui supplied.

"Then why didn't he just... stop communicating? Why did he have to destroy everything?"

They all glanced cluelessly at one another.

"Well... I can think of a couple of reasons..." Kogure said finally, and they all looked towards him. "First, if the numbers were able to break Stanley out, it wouldn't be impossible to imagine they could break someone else out too. Destroying the gang would ensure that no one would be able to come after him."

"Seems an elaborate plan for a little piece of mind," Maki said with a frown.

"And the other reason?" Sendoh prompted.

"Well... what if the fall of the numbers could be used to his advantage somehow."

"Like how?"

"Well... a trap for someone."

Sendoh lifted his head. "Like Tsuki," he breathed.

"Ok," Jin tilted his head in confusion. "Stanley's obviously interested in Tsuki. What do we know about that?"

Sendoh shrugged, completely at a loss.

Instead it was Fujima who lifted a hand. "I can tell you about Tsuki. He's the current minister for justice, one of the big players in the government. The general elections are a matter of weeks away, and one of his biggest manifesto promises was to curb gang crime in Tokyo – something he's so far failed miserably to do. He is desperate to bring the Tokyo Sect down."

"So, Tsuki is Stanley's real target?"

Kogure frowned. "By why him? He's no more important than any other authority figure getting in Stanley's way. I mean – why not the head of police? Or the police commissioner? There must be a reason why he is targeting Tsuki in particular."

"I can answer that question too," Fujima interrupted with a smile. "I _know_." His eyes flickered in challenge towards Maki who ignored the provocation and looked the other way. The rest of them fixed their attention on Fujima

"This goes back to even before the numbers were created. As you know, Stanley was one of the founding members of the gang. He, along with five others, started the whole thing. The whole purpose of the numbers gang was to give inmates more power and more protection. 'Strength in numbers,' or so the saying goes. And not just from fellow prisoners. The numbers' purpose was to challenge the guards themselves. And the reason Stanley got involved was because he himself had spent several years being targeted by the overseer at the time for, let's call it, _special __treatment_."

They exchanged glances, and Fujima let their imaginations do the work. There was no need to explain what special treatment Stanley had been in for.

"There was actually a study commissioned by the government following complaints, and many inmates, including Stanley Q, were interviewed. That's when details of the rampant abuse came to light. The study was supposed to act as a basis for new reformation in prisons, but it was never published."

"Why not?"

"It was suppressed. Apparently the overseer had some powerful friends, and he had already laid the foundations for his future political career. A smear like that would have ruined him. So he pulled in favours, and shut it down. In the end, the voices of the prisoners were never heard."

Sendoh ran his hands through his hair in agitation. He was not the only one to pick up the hints in Fujima's words.

"You mean... the overseer who abused Stanley... was Tsuki?"

"One and the same," Fujima confirmed with a nod.

"But... but how do you know all this?" Jin wanted to know.

Fujima looked steadily at him. "Because before I ended up in this shit hole, I was an investigative officer for the justice department. _I_ am the one who wrote the report. I interviewed Stanley Q myself." His eyes moved to encompass each of them. "Think about your hatred for Norio. Multiply it ten times, and fill your heart with revenge. Can you understand it? What he feels? Why he'd do anything to get back at him?"

"Don't justify it." Sendoh immediately snarled, his voice like sudden venom, his eyes flashing with anger. "Don't you dare try and justify what he's done. All the inmates who died, and all the years of agony Kaede has endured, just to satisfy his need for revenge? Don't you dare."

They all looked at him nervously. Fujima shrugged.

"I didn't say it was right. Only that his motives are at least... comprehensible."

"So, if Stanley's target is Tsuki, you're saying that he sent in Norio and brought down the numbers to gain his trust, and then proceeded to involved him in a torture case? That seems a little... lame."

"It's _not_ just a torture case," Sendoh replied, his voice still cold. "Don't forget that Tsuki is risking everything to evade the law. He's keeping alive someone who is supposed to be dead. If this gets out, he won't just be politically finished, he'll be right here in this prison with us."

"Sort of makes sense."

"Well that must means Stanley must intend eventually make the whole thing public, so what will happen to Norio?"

"Stanley has the resources to make Norio disappear, and just leave Tsuki to take the fall."

There was a moment of silence.

"So Kaede is just bait," Sendoh said finally, and there was no mistaking the anger in his voice. "The fall of the numbers was just bait. The whole thing is just sick. Fucking sick." He looked up and his eyes were cold and dangerous. "So – what are we going to do about it?"

They all looked towards him, waiting for his instruction, and he glared straight back at them all.

"We've got two enemies within our reach." He told them forcefully. "We've got a door that's unlocked. We've got eight men." He nodded to each of them in turn. "Jin, strategist. Kyota, lock breaker. Kogure, networker. Fujima, informant. Maki, Mitsui and Hanamichi, born fighters." He took a breath. "I think we're ready to rain retribution, don't you?"

They all nodded seriously back at him, their eyes bright with the prospect of their revenge.

"But... what are we going to do?" Kogure wanted to know.

Sendoh smiled coolly at him, though there was no joy in his expression. The question was easy. He'd already decided from the moment he'd seen Kaede's block going up in flames. This place suffocated him. The air. The stench of bodies. These cramped, uncomfortable cells. The bloodstains on the concrete. This prison. This block. The history of the numbers. The horrors these walls had seen. The screams they had contained. The manifestation of Kaede's pain. The embodiment of their nightmare.

"We're going to burn it down," he said, and his blood already felt like it was on fire. "We're going to burn this whole fucking place to the ground. And we're going to take Stanley and Norio down with it."

They looked surprised, but they did not dismiss his words as madness. No, in fact he could already see their minds working, trying to figure out a way to make it possible. But he already knew. He could see it in his mind. He knew exactly how to make it work.

"To make a fire big enough to spread... with all this concrete... we're going to need some kind of fuel," Kogure pointed out finally, looking towards Sendoh in question.

Sendoh leaned forwards. With one casual finger, he pointed towards the ceiling.

"Chopper's on the roof," he said, and grinned.

~tbc

**Ans**: Hmm – was it obvious? I felt like it was easy to see it coming. Was it easy to see it coming? Alas.

I have a job interview next week! My current job is taking up SO MUCH of my time (I looked back at my writing progress for 2012 and was disappointed with how little I got done... I was much more productive in 2011 when I was working less hours) so I'm hoping to start something new in summer which should give me more writing/editing time (and also more money, so it's win-win!)

I brought myself a piano for Christmas (yes... self-buying Christmas presents...) so I've been procrastinating a lot from writing playing it haha. Sorry, I ought to have had this chapter up sooner!

I'm also thinking of what to do for my next project. There's a one-shot I need to finish for Kaede's birthday, and then Akira's birthday will be right around the corner too. And then a new multi-chapter for senru? Maybe a hanaru this time? Ohohohohohoho!

Anyway, happy birthday Kaede ~ and a happy new year to all of you! :D


	23. Chapter 23

**Addicted to SD**: Hi hi! So sorry for the wait! I'm still juggling around some ideas for my next fic. Totally undecided – but I'm kind of thinking... hm... sci-fi?

**Anita**: So glad your internets are working again! I am quite keen to move away from fanfiction a bit and do some more original stuff – my recent nano attempt was young adult fantasy and I think it has a lot of potential, so I'd like to spend some time on that too – but Sendoh and Rukawa are still my one and only original muses! Just can't leave them alone! Lol

**Raine**: I entered the world of SD through hanaru/ruhana! They're good for one shots, I don't think they'd see me through a long muti-chapter fic though, so you're probably safe! Not all mysteries are solved (?) quite yet, I think, haha.

**Mrsklemzak**: "you have enough sadistic for several fics!" - I'm not sure which way to take that – lol! I'm having lots of fun with my piano, thanks :D I try to play every day (opps – I really ought to be writing every day instead I think, lol! Well... I try to do that too... heehee). I had another look at Rainbow (manga), I still need to track down Rainbow (anime) – will definitely do so when I find some time!

**Dimonyo-****anghel** : Thanks for your review! :D Hope you enjoy the chapter!

**Rjuha** : Hey there, thanks a lot for all your lengthy and detailed reviews recently :) you've given me a lot to think about! I'm glad you enjoyed Nijo and R+J too :) I'm open to translations if you are still interested – as long as you can translate the reviews/comments back to me heehee! I feel kind of bad that most of my fics are so long, so I don't envy you the effort at all! Thank you very much for all your enthusiasm!

**Reodavle** : Argh! I know! I want more Kaede too! Gah. If I wasn't the writer, I'd be complaining too! Lol.

**SlamShady** : You don't need to fear :) Nowadays I always complete my multi-chaps (although sometimes it might take me a while lol). I read your "fic endings" philosophy on your profile page, some very interesting points you make :) Some of my favourite fics in the world are uncompleted – somehow I still think I prefer an abandoned but brilliant fic rather than a poorly-ended one because it leaves the inspiration with me. I love filling in the gaps myself! There are several very old fics I'd love to "adopt" from the previous owner because I've already spun out my own endings lol! Although at the same time I really appreciate how frustrating it can be :)

**Seishirou Hitsugaya** : Hi Hi, sorry for the wait – here it is!

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><p><strong>Thine <strong>**Own ****Palace  
><strong>**Chapter ****23****  
><strong>

Maki was the last to leave. He hung back, waiting to catch Sendoh's attention, as everyone else trawled out of the cell with faces solemn and grim.

"Listen," he said, leaning forwards. He spoke quietly, but the empty cell seemed to echo with his voice.

Sendoh looked at him questioningly, the slightest frown on his lips. Maki's eyes were intense, he noticed. Full of meaning, and nerves, and emotion. He waited.

"Rukawa Kaede is already dead," Maki's voice was hollow. "Don't forget that."

Sendoh didn't move. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Maki pulled back slightly, "don't hope for the impossible."

Sendoh narrowed his eyes. "I'm not a fool, Maki," he snapped, his voice like stones. "I know what I have to do."

Maki opened his mouth to retort, but the seriousness of Sendoh's expression made him pause. A darkness he'd never noticed before seemed to have settled on Sendoh's brow. Warily, Maki took a step back. He felt second-guessed, as if there was nothing he could say that Sendoh hadn't already anticipated. But... what decision had Sendoh come to? Maki had no confidence at all that Sendoh was going to be objective about the whole thing.

Maki scowled to himself. _If it comes down to a choice - a choice between you and him - don't throw your life away. He is already dead. _He wanted to open his mouth and say it, but the words just wouldn't come out. Not with Sendoh staring at him with those eyes that seemed to already know.

Sendoh waited impassively for a moment before turning and retreating to the back of the cell, leaving Maki standing. Maki bit his lip slightly in annoyance, but knew there was nothing for him to say. He pulled the cell door open more roughly than he intended and stalked out. He carefully removed the paper buffer and the door clicked locked behind him, leaving the single occupant to the hard silence.

Fujima was the only one still in sight, waiting for Maki when he emerged. He had his arms folded, his expression tight and suspicious, the same way he'd looked since Sendoh had first told them that he and Maki would be working together.

"Don't imagine I'm happy about this," Fujima repeated once again, tossing his head slightly in disdain. He'd already made his opinion of Maki perfectly clear.

"You're not the only one," Maki returned with an irritated grimace. He pushed Sendoh to the back of his mind and thought instead of Jin who had left with the dog-eyed Kyota and that fool-headed Sakuragi, of all people. Why couldn't he have gone with them? Much better his true comrades rather than this worthless little whore. Still, there seemed no choice but to make the best of it.

He scowled at Fujima. "Come on then. Let's just get the hell on with it."

He took one last look down the corridor towards the right, the direction Jin had gone, and tried to ignore his powerful sense of misgiving. _This could go very wrong, _he reflected despondently for a moment. Then he turned left, and strode off. Loud protests and insults burst forth from the occupants of nearby cells who saw him pass, but Maki ignored it all. His eyes were set only forward, his face like thunder. Fujima folded his arms sulkily and stalked after him.

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><p>The chain that had held the door handles closed already lay coiled on the ground like a snake. Kyota kicked it aside with one foot.<p>

"This was surprisingly easy," Jin commented, his tone suspicious, as if expecting a trap to be sprung.

"We're just lucky," Kyota replied in a low breath, "that Stanley already came through this way. If I'd had to deal with all those electronic locks there's really no guarantee we could have got this far."

"Lucky he doesn't bother to close doors behind him, you mean," Sakuragi smirked.

"Exactly," Kyota replied.

"Let's do it then," Jin said, nodding to the door.

Kyota nodded back, and cautiously opened the door a crack. Bright sunlight immediately came through into the dark stairwell such that the three of them were forced to squint. Cool, new air touched their grimy faces, and each of them subconsciously tilted their heads back slightly to breathe in the transcendent sweetness. There was no indication of noise or life on the other side.

Once his eyes had adjusted to the brightness, Kyota crouched down so his eyes were at knee level and pushed the door enough that he could put his head cautiously through. Behind him, in the dark of the building, Jin and Sakuragi waited with bated breath.

"I don't see anyone," Kyota's quiet hiss reached them.

"Don't take chances," Jin replied immediately. "Is there any cover?"

"There's a vent over to the right, about five metres away."

"Will it hide Sakuragi?"

"Hmm, hard to say."

Jin turned back to Sakuragi who was considerably less sooth-like than the much smaller Jin and Kyota.

"Stay here," he told him. "We'll take a look, and call you over as soon as we can."

Sakuragi scowled slightly, being naturally averse to taking orders, but Jin's decision was sensible, so he did not complain. He only watched as Jin and Kyota vanished cautiously through the door, and then took up Kyota's previous position, looking out.

The rooftop, he saw, was a wide, flat area, quite empty apart from the occasional steel structure related to the heating and ventilation of the cells and kitchen below. Poking out of the ground like pins were scattered metal pipes emitting gentle streams of steam into the air. Nothing else moved.

In the centre of this barren rooftop was their prize. A small, private helicopter sat idle, its giant blades hanging motionless against the blue sky. There was no sign of life. Only the bright, cloudless sky stretched infinitely over their heads. Sakuragi couldn't resist looking up at it. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen it so vast and untamed, unframed by any walls.

Jin and Kyota were crouched behind some kind of large metal box, hidden from sight of the helicopter. Sakuragi saw them whisper together, and then Jin turned and gestured him over.

Sakuragi ran the short distance at a crouch to join them.

"What do you think?" Jin asked.

"Hn," Sakuragi sniffed slightly, looking again at the silent machine, "its just a Squirrel – an AS350. Can't carry more than six men."

They both looked at him as if he had said something strange, but he ignored them and they did not question him.

"There were five men in the hall," Kyota commented instead. "So at maximum there can only be one more."

"I expect the pilot is still here. That way, he could start the rotor early in case they needed to get away in a hurry."

"We can handle one guy," Sakuragi said confidently.

"He'll be armed."

"We can handle it."

Jin looked sideways at Sakuragi. "You sound pretty sure of yourself."

"I am."

"There's no guarantee he hasn't seen us already," Kyota added nervously. "And if we approach the chopper directly... we're just sitting ducks."

Sakuragi shrugged calmly. "If you two attract his attention, I can go for the door."

"How do you propose we attract his attention?"

Sakuragi gestured towards a large air conditioning unit a couple of dozen metres away. "There's plenty of cover. Just let him see you. Chuck some stuff."

"_Chuck __some __stuff_?" Kyota demanded faintly. "Are you serious? That's not a plan, that's a poor insanity plea."

"Let's try it," Jin interrupted him, causing Kyota to look towards him in dismay. "It's simple. It might work." He reached out experimentally and managed to unscrew the top from one of the nearby pipes. "Throw stuff."

Sakuragi grinned. "Just make sure he sees you, and don't get shot. I'll signal you when I'm ready," he instructed, before turning to run at a crouch from cover to cover, aiming for the helicopter's further side, skirting it at a cautious distance.

Kyota was still gaping unhappily. "Why do _we_ get the dangerous job?" he demanded as soon as Sakuragi was out of earshot.

Jin looked at Kyota from the corner of his eye, tossing the metal fixture up and down casually in his palm. "Are you telling me you'd rather be the one opening the cargo door and getting shot in the face?"

Kyota blanked for a moment before shutting his jaw abruptly. Jin rolled his eyes. "Sakuragi might be a fool," he continued coldly, "but he isn't a coward. Besides, Sendoh trusts him, and I rather thought you liked him too."

Kyota sighed audibly. "I'll make him my best friend for life so long as his stupid idea doesn't get me shot."

Jin watched him for a moment before cracking a mirthless smile.

* * *

><p>The cell door was of a semi-solid design. Medium security, typical of the larger cells. The upper half had a barred window which made it easy for the guards to see inside at a glance. The rest was solid metal, apart from a small window that could be slid open and closed and through which things could be delivered. The bars were dull, tarnished steel, Norio noticed. Not rusted in the way the quarantine block had been, but lack-luster enough to show the age of the place. What a miserable job this was.<p>

He scowled. He made a striking silhouette, his head and shoulders framed by the bars, but the boy wasn't watching.

"Where are the others?" he demanded.

At the sound of his voice, Sendoh opened his eyes. He was sitting cross-legged on the centre-most bed, leaning back against the wall with his arms folded. Something about his attitude put Norio in mind of a monk. Perfect calm.

"What others?" Sendoh replied peacefully. His voice seemed to echo slightly. The cell around him, with no less than seven other bunks, was starkly empty. Norio peered around suspiciously, in case it were a trap, but there was genuinely no one.

Norio licked his lips. "So, your comrades abandoned you, did they?" he sneered. "I'm curious; did they force you to stay behind, or did you volunteer?"

Sendoh said nothing.

Norio raised an eyebrow and opened the small window with a decisive snap. From his waist he pulled a pair of cuffs. He didn't speak any commands. No _come __here_, or _move __it_. He simply spun the cuffs idly around his index finger, the steel rings catching the overhead bulbs so that a blade of light ran in circles around the loops like a dart.

Sendoh got up quietly and approached.

Apart from the bars that separated them, they stood almost nose to nose with one another. Sendoh struggled to maintain his outward calm, feeling himself grow hot with nervous fury. But he did not give in to his emotion. Instead he did as he'd done many times in the past, and offered his wrists through the small window obediently, keeping his expression as empty as he could manage. No pride. No rage. He hated the smirk on Norio's lips, and yet he knew Norio wouldn't open the door, and therefore take him to Stanley, or to Kaede, unless he submitted himself to this.

Norio gave a minute shake of his head, a smug smile hovering on his lips, and made a turning motion with his index finger.

Sendoh narrowed his eyes slightly. This was not the usual procedure, yet he wasn't in a position to complain. Biting the inside of his cheek slightly he turned himself around and allowed Norio to cuff his wrists behind him.

Then the steel door banged open against the corridor wall, and Norio hauled him from the cell.

"I believe I asked you a question," the overseer hissed into his ear, gripping Sendoh's forearm so tightly that he could feel each finger dig painfully into his flesh. "Where are the others?"

"What others?" Sendoh repeated, ducking as Norio immediately aimed a heavy blow to his head.

"Don't play fucking games with me."

Sendoh staggered as he was shoved violently against the wall, but somehow managed to keep his feet. Norio's face was contorted with anger – he seemed less cool, more unpredictable, than usual. Maybe Stanley's presence was having an effect on him. Sendoh quickly steadied himself on his feet and prepared to receive another shove. Instead, Norio seized him viciously by the elbow and began to drag him down the corridor.

"When I find those fucking punks," he snarled. "I'm going to make sure none of them can shit for a week."

Sendoh swallowed. He knew Norio well enough to recognise that his threats were not idle. He thought fleetingly of the others. Seven men who each carried a tiny portion of a chance in hell. He comforted himself to know that they could take care of themselves. They all had more experience than him, after all. He did not doubt their ability to evade Norio for a moment.

He suppressed his fears and instead spared a glance left and right. From every cell, blank, ashen faces stared out at him. There was a ringing silence in which their footfalls sounded like drumbeats. He felt suddenly as if he were participating in his own funeral procession.

_I've been singled out_, he thought critically. _Marked. Different._ _No wonder they think I'm some kind of monster_.

He realised he felt very alone.

_Isn't this what I wanted? To be an exception. To be... my own palace? Is this how Kaede feels?_

The handcuffs dug painfully into his wrists. Unluckily, the two pins he'd earlier skewered into the waistband of his trousers were at the front, meaning it would be difficult for him to get at them.

Reminded of the knife-edge delicacy of his situation, he couldn't help feeling some nerves. They had planned as much as they could but the fact remained they could not even begin to guess what would happen next. Half of their plans depended on sheer chance and the truth was that Stanley, Norio, even Kaede, remained mostly a mystery to them. There was no telling what would happen from this point on.

_We __are __running __blind, _Sendoh told himself for the umpteenth time, _but __we __must __keep __running._

Norio continued to pull him with a rough sort of fury in the direction of the main entrance to the block. They walked through the first of the holding doors, into the 'cage' - a small holding cell, big enough for only eight or nine individuals – where Norio closed and locked the rear door behind them. Only then did the mechanism of the forward doors release and allow them to leave. This system of holding doors was, of course, designed specifically to prevent the type of breakout that Sendoh had in mind.

Sendoh blinked as Norio pushed him on, outside the block and into the bright light of the courtyard. He looked up longingly at the sky as he always did and yet, for once, his mind did not register the beauty of it. Instead he found himself still preoccupied with all the uncertainties he still faced, the predominant one being – _where was Kaede?_

* * *

><p>Kogure set the last of the small silver foil packets, and stepped back. He had arranged them in a ring, packed untidily into the loops of the fence. It looked, Mitsui felt, like the work of some kind of demented cult. Worship to the sun god, or something like that.<p>

"Will this be enough?" he queried. He knew Kogure was pretty knowledgeable about chemistry, but also knew he was no expert.

"It will have to be," Kogure replied, straightening a packet that was threatening to fall out. "It's all we've got."

"You're not going to save any?"

"Can't risk it. If this doesn't work, we'll be trapped."

Mitsui glanced uneasily around. The dining hall was completely deserted. He hadn't seen it like this for a long time. He glanced up at the single camera in the corner. They'd already tied a pillow case around it as a precaution, but it didn't change the fact that Stanley's men might have already seen them arrive.

Kogure saw the direction of his stare. "Don't worry," he said calmly. "Maki's got our back."

"Hn."

"We can trust him, Hisashi. But come on, we've still got a lot to do."

Mitsui sighed and tossed the matchbox they'd secreted from Ishizuka's drawer in Kogure's direction.

"It was lucky you thought of asking Ishizuka for this stuff," he commented as Kogure set to work.

"I know. I didn't really plan it. I just used it as cover for the letter."

"The letter," Mitsui frowned slightly. "You know, Stanley never mentioned the letter."

Kogure paused for a moment and lifted his head. "You're right, he didn't."

"Maybe he didn't get it. Maybe Ishizuka never sent it."

"Maybe. But then, why is he here?"

Mitsui frowned and looked blank. After a moment, Kogure shrugged. "Let's just do what we need to do," he decided, and struck the match.

The explosion was not insignificant. The low blast of sound seemed to travel right through their bones. It did not take a genius to realise that the explosion would be heard all over the prison. Mitsui and Kogure shared an uncertain look. As for the damage to the fence, they had at least achieved what they needed. The bottom wires had been wrenched clean out of the concrete floor, a hole punched into the mesh as big as a person.

"Nice," Mitsui commented, satisfied. Kogure nodded mutely, and they both stepped towards it.

The two of them set about silently unwinding the remaining wire as much as they could, aiming to enlarge the hole two or three times. It was slow and difficult work.

Kogure winced in pain as a sharp end of wire stabbed him under his nail. The edges were razor sharp and the wires so inflexible that there were already trickles of blood running down his forearms before they were halfway done.

Mitsui saw his difficulties and, ignoring his own bloodied fingers, lifted a palm to shove Kogure away.

"Go and drag some of the tables over here," he demanded, "I got this."

Kogure hesitated a moment before nodding and turning away to survey the rest of the dining hall. The dining tables were heavy, but they were not fixed to the ground. He leaned his full weight into one, pushing with all his strength until, reluctantly, it began to grind its way over the cement floor.

By the time he'd brought it close to Mitsui, he was already breathing heavily. Looking back over his shoulder he was reminded that there were still seven more.

"Jin better hurry the fuck up," he gasped between breaths. "We won't be able to do this on our own. We need Sakuragi's strength for this."

Mitsui nodded grimly as the last of the wires untwisted in his hands, and he moved over to help Kogure try and push the unwieldy table through the gap in the fence.

"This will get us out of the block," he commented as he leaned his weight in, "but there's still no way over the perimeter fence."

"It's like Sendoh said," Kogure replied, his feet scrabbling for a purchase as he pushed, "we'll just have to take a chance on the main gates when the fire trucks arrive."

"But what if they don't call for fire trucks?"

The wires clanged and rattled against each other as the table passed uneasily through the gap and out onto the rough section of scrub land beyond.

Kogure leaned back against the table and wiped sweat out of his eyes. "Then," he said heavily, his eyes turning dark, "let's just hope Maki and Fujima manage do what they are meant to do, or this will be nothing better than a massacre."

* * *

><p>"Move over, they'll see me!"<p>

"Just shut up, would you?"

Fujima huffed audibly and brew a strand of hair out of his face. "How the fuck did I get stuck with a goddamn buffoon like you?"

Maki grit his teeth in an effort not to retort. This irritating little snitch was beyond insufferable. If he ever saw Sendoh again, he was going to kill him.

"Listen," he growled, "we'll just have to rush them. There's only two. I'll take them out, and you can go and deal with the machine."

"Are you a moron? You'll _take __them __out_? They've got _guns_, dumb ass. They'll shoot you, and then they'll shoot me, and then that will be the end of your goddamn dreamland adventure."

Maki narrowed his eyes in annoyance. He'd forgotten about the guns, though he wasn't about to admit that.  
>"What's your idea then?" He retorted.<p>

"Divide and conquer," Fujima said with a smug grin that revealed white teeth. "I assume a meat-head like you will have a shank."

Maki fished in his waistband and pulled out a dirty old toothbrush. The bristles were all but gone, those that remained were sprayed in all directions and had turned grey with dirt. There were traces of blood caked into the cracks on the handle. Fujima took it, and turned it around. The end had been melted down, probably over a lighter. The plastic had melted and bubbled and been fashioned into a razor sharp point. A homemade blade, typical of the prison. Fujima didn't hesitate.

With one swipe, he cut into the flesh of his left hand, causing blood to immediately pool in his palm, and spill down his wrists.

"_Ah! _Shit..." he couldn't help but hiss with the pain.

"What the fuck are you-?" Maki began enraged, but Fujima only passed the shank back angrily.

"Just get the fucking gun," he hissed, gripping the wrist of his wounded hand fiercely, "that's it."

Before Maki could stop him, Fujima threw himself out of the hiding place, right into the centre of the corridor, in full view of Stanley's two men who were hovering around the guard station.

They startled immediately and lifted their weapons. Fujima groaned convincingly, his wounded hand clamped over his mouth, a painful hacking cough shaking his ribs so that it appeared he was coughing up the blood that was quickly soaking his shirt.

Maki lifted an eyebrow. If nothing else, the bitch had guts.

Fujima teetered convincingly, lifting his eyes to the guards imploringly before collapsing to the ground where he lay still. Maki remained hidden and silent, almost holding his breath.

"What the hell? It's some kind of fucking twink."

"How the hell did he get out? We locked this place down."

There was a tense moment of silence, and then one pair of footsteps began to move in their direction.

"What are you-?" someone said angrily.

"It's just some little bitch," the nearer one replied, coming closer even as he spoke. Maki curled his fists and took a deep, steadying breath. The gun. He just needed the gun. He pressed his back against the wall and waited. He saw a foot kick Fujima over onto his back - Fujima coughed and spluttered - and then a hand reached down to seize Fujima's shirt and shake him roughly.

"How'd you get out here, punk?" the man demanded.

Then Maki made his move.

The man either heard or sensed the presence that was suddenly beside him because he turned he head, only to be met in the face with Maki's foot.

He was sent toppling backwards, losing his grip on the firearm as he brought his hand up to his bloodied nose. Maki cursed as the gun fell to the floor and slid beyond his reach. _Just get the gun_. Shit.

He tried to turn towards it, and was aware, as if everything around him had reduced to slow motion, that the man at the other end of the corridor was already aiming at him. His heart was in his throat as he lost his feet under him and found himself falling helplessly through the air.

His hand was still outstretched towards the fallen gun, but he knew he couldn't reach it. He astonished himself with just how frightened he suddenly felt. There was nothing he could do. His body, which had always been strong, always been powerful, was suddenly worthless to him. He was flooded with fear and anger. His mistake. Just a tiny mistake and he'd die for it. And Fujima would die for it. They all would.

He closed his eyes and waited for the bullets to hit.

Frantically Fujima lunged forwards, snatching the gun from the floor and, without evening pausing to look, sent a desperate hail of bullets towards the guard post.

The gunshots echoed like a cracked whip up and down the cement corridor. Maki saw the distant man stumble, blood visible on his shirt as he fell backwards, hand to his chest. Without waiting, Fujima turned around and, lost in his own fearful desperation, shot the first man in the back of the head at point blank range. Blood pooled dark and ominous on the ground.

Maki felt all the breath knocked out of his as he hit the floor. He lay still for moment, feeling the adrenaline and fear clutching at him, his hands shivering as if he were cold. The concrete floor felt cold and good against his cheek. He breathed deeply, centring himself before climbing unsteadily up to his knees and looking round at his companion.

Fujima stood stock still, beads of sweat visible on his face, his breath coming in harsh gasps. The gun in his two hands trembled visible, still trained on the dead man's head, as if expecting him to move.

Maki clambered to his feet and let out a harsh, shaking breath. "What else do they teach you in the government?" he quipped.

Fujima gave no response.

Gently, Maki reached over and extracted the gun from his grasp. "He's dead," he assured him quietly. "They both are. You did good."

Fujima looked up at him with wide, shell-shocked eyes, his face utterly pale. Maki lifted an eyebrow. _He's no Jin, that's for sure, _he thought critically_._ Although, to his own surprise, he found himself smiling slightly. _He's certainly something, though._

Fujima blinked, and then relaxed as if suddenly exhausted. Maki laid a bracing hand on his shoulder, and the two of them made their way up the corridor towards the newly liberated guard room.

* * *

><p>The unfortunate pilot was no match for Sakuragi, who had him out on the rooftop in moments, face down against the floor, decidedly unconscious. There hadn't been any gunfire at all, much to Kyota's relief. It seemed the man had been reticent to fire through the cockpit glass. Sakuragi was already getting started on trying to open the fuel tank, but Jin hung back a little, staring up at the helicopter's motionless blades in a poignant silence.<p>

Kyota wandered closer to him, his face slightly red with adrenaline.

"Kyota..." Jin began thoughtfully, and Kyota, recognising the dangerous tone of his voice, waited nervously. Jin turned to look at him in all seriousness. "What's to stop us taking this helicopter and just getting the hell out of here?"

Kyota glanced nervously over at Sakuragi, but Jin's voice had been quiet, and he didn't seem to have heard.

"Apart from Sakuragi and not knowing how to fly a helicopter, you mean?" Kyota tried to respond lightly.

Jin's eyes narrowed slightly. "I could take down Sakuragi," he asserted coldly. "And the pilot is right there."

Kyota's eyes widened and he subconsciously took a half step backwards. They both looked towards the sleek machine once again. Sakuragi had finally succeeded in breaking open the fuel tank door, and tried to gesture them over.

The air suddenly felt very dangerous. Kyota frowned intensely amid Jin's cold silence. Then his shoulders drooped a little, and he sighed.

"You do realise why Sendoh sent Maki with Fujima instead of us, don't you?"

Jin turned his head slowly to look at Kyota, his eyes dark with warning.

Kyota couldn't help but swallow nervously. "Because he knew you wouldn't be able to leave Maki behind," he asserted bravely.

Jin sucked his cheeks in furiously. "Why should I care about Maki Shinichi?" he demanded.

This time Kyota let a small, commiserating grin touch his lips. "It doesn't matter why," he replied, stepping away towards Sakuragi.

Jin stood still only for a moment, the blaze in his eyes slowly dissipating, before he set his lips in a firm line, irritated that he could be so easily manipulated, and moved forward to help.

* * *

><p>The baton tapped idly against the edge of the polished desk upon which Stanley sat himself. His boots were sunk almost ankle deep into a pile of expensive gossamer cushions stacked on a nearby chair. His grin was wide, his eyes, Kaede felt, slightly mad.<p>

Tsuki struggled feebly against the cuffs that held him to the chair. His face was red and sweaty, and great rings of perspiration had soaked portions of his shirt. Kaede did not bother to struggle.

"Don't you like being back in your old office...?" Stanley queried with a gleeful smirk. "Isn't it enlightening to find yourself in my position?"

"Stanley..." the man pleaded, his voice dry and desperate, "...whatever it is... I can arrange it. Whatever you want. Just... just ask. Please." He managed to crack a feeble, hopeful smile.

Stanley smiled momentarily back, but somehow it just made him look worse. "I shall remember your kind offer,' he said, though every syllable dripped with venom.

Kaede was silent, half-watching from under partially closed eyelids. He made no move, drew no opinions. It was a shame, he felt, that he would die before he had really found a way to fight back. A shame that his death would be at Stanley's whim rather than of his own making. A shame, but nothing more than that. He was disappointed, perhaps, but resigned. His head drooped slightly, as if in sleep. What, after all, did he have to fear?

Death? He'd take it. He'd take it gladly.

Tsuki began once again to mutter fearfully, but was interrupted by a knock at the office door. Whoever it was did not bother waiting for a response, and entered.

Kaede's eyes opened.

Norio. And the boy. He felt his gut clench. Kaede watched them enter, Norio's grip on his elbow, the slight unsteadiness of his feet. And emotion. He felt dangeous emotion building up in his gut. His state of mind, his calm resignation, rapidly unwound.

_Why?_

_Why __was __the __boy __here?_

He looked towards Stanley in silent ferocity, only to find that he was already being watched. Stanley's smirk only grew.

"I didn't think I'd ever see it," he commented in cruel amusement. "Rukawa Kaede... giving a fuck about something."

Kaede blinked, but gave no more of a reaction than that. His eyes still held his questions. Stanley blew air through his nose in amusement, and gestured for Norio to deposit Sendoh next to where Kaede sat on the floor.

With a hand on his shoulder and a swift kick to the back of his knee, Norio forced Sendoh to drop to the ground.

Polished wood, Sendoh noticed, so rich and clean he could see his face reflected back at him in it. He looked up at Stanley, and waited.

Norio was the first to speak. "The rest of those numbers are missing. I need to go and stop whatever stupid plan they've come up with."

Stanley nodded in agreement, and with a final glance at Sendoh and Kaede, Norio left the room. Tsuki, meanwhile, watched Norio come and go with silence, desperate eyes. Stanley ignored him.

"Lost your voice?" Stanley demanded in amusement, all his malicious attention on Sendoh. "Got nothing clever to say?"

Sendoh met his stare and calmly as he could shook his head from side to side.

Stanley's face coloured slightly with displeasure. "You are a dangerous man, Akira Sendoh. They say you are the current leader of the _numbers_. You are a little king in this prison." His eyes glinted maliciously. "You don't need to be afraid of me, do you? Aren't you powerful? You insulted me in the dining hall – where are your insults now? Where are your guts? Your _pride_?"

Sendoh tilted his head slightly. "I am no king," he managed to reply. "I'm an outcast. An underdog."

"Oh, really? How alike you are," Stanley retorted, looking between Sendoh and Kaede, an angry sneer growing over his lips. "The so-called_ underdogs_. Funny, how you underdogs somehow manage to rise. Somehow manage to think yourselves so important. Have the fucking audacity to call yourselves leaders."

Sendoh raised one eyebrow, but gave no reply. The volume of Stanley's voice was rising with every word, his demeanour deteriorating into inelegant rage. Whatever the feud between Stanley and Kaede was truly about, Sendoh felt he was about to find out.

Stanley was glaring at him with mounting fury. "Perhaps you already think yourself above me. You already think you have the right to call me out, summon me, as if I were a dog, a tool for you to use. You think you're _important_." Stanley's words hissed through his teeth as he leaned in towards Sendoh threateningly. "You think you matter. You probably think you're some kind of hero in a story about you, but you're wrong. Compared to him you're nothing. Nothing like him, not even half what he is. You come here and think you can take his throne? I will destroy you for that."

Sendoh furrowed his eyebrows, completely uncomprehending. The conversation had somehow spun away from him.

Stanley saw his confusion and looked triumphant. "Even a dog like you must feel him. He's everywhere. Don't you hear it?" Stanley lifted a hand to his ear and paused to listen in silence for a moment. Sendoh listened as well, but heard nothing. "The walls," Stanley muttered reverently, "they whisper his name." He fixed Sendoh with another aggressive stare, "this is _his_ prison. He is the only god here. You don't even come close."

Sendoh's expression was blank. _What_-?

He felt Kaede shift uncomfortably beside him. "He's talking," Kaede muttered quietly, "about Liron Kai."

Sendoh stiffened. He turned his head to see that Kaede was watching Stanley with narrowed eyes, abject disgust undisguised in his stare.

"What's Liron Kai got to do with anything?" Sendoh queried, utterly bemused.

Over by the door, Tsuki grimaced visibly in his chair, his face twisting slightly... with what? With revulsion? With fear? Sendoh saw his look and felt hopelessly confused. He was missing something. Something that pulled all these strings together. _Liron Kai_?

"But..." Sendoh began in confusion, looking back at Stanley's triumphant grin, "...but Liron Kai is dead."

"Oh," Stanley's expression took on a distinctly maniacal glaze. He bent forward eagerly, throwing his shadow over Sendoh, his mouth twisted in revelry. "Is _that _what you've heard?"

Sendoh felt the air turn cold.

~tbc

* * *

><p>AN: I'll try and finish this fic in one more chapter and an epilogue, but watch out because the next chapter will be a <em>long<em> one! Thank you all for your patience, you are all completely and utterly fantastic. Even you who don't review. Yes, you. I can see you, you know :P

What the hell – Liron Kai, you sexy beast xD mwahahahahaha.


	24. Chapter 24

**Mrsklemzak**: Thanks for yet another swift review (sorry I did not respond with an equally swift update, alas). Opps – maybe I didn't explain the helicopter part properly. Sendoh planned to use the fuel from the helicopter to help them start the fire. Since it is a small machine, it wouldn't be possible for them to all escape in it unfortunately (although, in a moment of weakness/evilness, Jin did contemplate just taking it and leaving everyone else behind!) "Two monkeys and Jin in a helicopter" would be a completely different fic – hahaha. I wonder if someone would take that as a prompt heehee.

**Angelchoo**: Hi hi, thanks for your comments! Gah – Liron as Kaede's alter ego is exactly the sort of plot I would use lol. Luckily it is not the case in one (otherwise I'd be properly gutted that you'd figured it out already lol!) I shall remember to be cautious of your highly discerning mind in the future /pout.

**Addicted to SD**: I wonder if you will check ffnet again today, just as I update? Heehee, that would be very strange! Ah – the ending. Gosh – it's hard to work out what's going to happen, right? Ah, wait, I already know what's going to happen! Heh – not going to tell you :P /mean

**Kenouki**: Hello! Thanks for reviewing! Alas, I have still not learnt how to prevent my fics becoming overly complex ._." I hope you enjoy the next chapter!

**Anita**: Hi Anita! Thanks so much for you "omg are you dead?" message – lmao. Sorry, sorry! I've taken the past week off work (annual leave – yay!) and finally got this together. Phew!

**Rjuha**: Hi again, thanks for another review! Had any luck getting your translations started? If you need any help with interpretation, just send me a message, although I'm confident you'll do fine on your own :P

**Loveless Raine**: Haha, oh dear, I guess things get quite confusing! There's quite a bit of explanation in this chapter so hopefully that'll keep you entertained :) I love Jin's character in this too – I think he might be my favourite :x (sorry Kaede!)

**graffitivikat**: /gasp – two year anniversary! ? No way! I originally started this out as a short fic, and its turned out to be my longest one! I like it, but at the same time, I sort of wish I'd finished it by now lol. You're right – I totally failed to include the 26s... I may or may not manage to squeeze a reference to them in before the end lol.

**Svaneaalka**: Hi hi, thanks for reviewing! Gosh, you know, one of the few things I still can't decide is how to settle Maki-Fujima-Jin-(Kyota?) As you mentioned, at one point I was veering towards MakiFuji, but now I'm pretty on the fence about it. Ah well, we'll have to wait and see how it goes – maybe a decision will not even be necessary O.o"

* * *

><p><strong>Thine <strong>**Own ****Palace  
><strong>**Chapter ****24**

**The ****past ****is ****never ****dead.  
><strong>**It's ****not ****even ****past.  
><strong>(William Faulkner)

The phone rang. Six, seven times, before it stopped. Then it rang again.

The office was Norio's, but it was not Norio's. Step back fifteen years and you would have seen a functional room. Yes, the dimensions were the same, but the air of luxury had yet to come to be. There were no wall panels, no novels on the shelves, just bare walls and cheap linoleum flooring. An office for a person for whom this place represented a job. No personal touches. No family photo on the desk. Only files, and papers, and cold blank misery.

The phone continued to ring.

Irritated, the owner of the office got up from where he had been crouched on the floor at the other side of the room, closed his fly with a sharp tug at the zip, and stalked over to the desk. He caught up the receiver gruffly.

"Goddamnit, what? I'm busy."

A quiet sound of distress came from the inmate against the far wall who had curled himself into a protective, shivering ball. Tsuki glared at him threateningly, and the young man quietened immediately.

"_Tsuki-san, __there __has __been __some __news __about __your __son_."

The overseer put a hand on his hip in annoyance and rolled his eyes slightly.

"What _about_ my son exactly?"

"_There __was... __an __incident. __He's __been __arrested.__"_

"Oh, for fuck's sakes..." Tsuki growled, his face twisting unpleasantly, "...that selfish little shit."

The rest of the details drifted through the handset while Tsuki's face grew more and more thunderous. Finally he grunted and hung up. He glared at the steel desk for a long time, and then turned around swiftly on his heel.

The young inmate cowered back slightly, seeing the black look on the overseer's face. His handcuffs clinked quietly against the floor.

"Get up!" Tsuki snarled, suddenly incensed. "And put your goddamn clothes back on. For fuck's sake!" With one violently sweep of his hand he sent everything on the desk crashing to the floor.

Quivering with fear, the inmate struggled to pull his trousers back up.

"Out!" Tsuki screamed at him, lifting up a heavy black baton from the desk and aiming a wild blow even as the man scampered towards the door.

"Fuck it!" Tsuki paused, breathing heavily, staring at the patches of blood and semen on the floor. "Fuck."

Out in the administration corridor, Stanley Q glanced left and right before leaning back on the wall and trying to quiet his thundering heart. Blood dripped from his left ear and had already soaked a large red patch into the shoulder of his shirt. He'd be punished for that too, no doubt.

With a wince he ran his hands over himself, assessing his injuries. Apart from the raging overseer in the nearby room there wasn't anyone else around. Stanley turned his eyes out through the large administration windows and tried to soften his breathing, but he couldn't quieten his rage. His whole body felt like it was filled with venom.

"I'll kill him," he vowed to himself, for the thousandth time. An empty promise. A way of fooling himself into carrying on. The aches and wounds ran through him like an endless reminder. No less ferocious was the agony of his pride every time that bastard raped him. Stanley clutched his own shirt with a twisted hand like he'd fall if he let go. "My chance will come," he reminded himself, his eyes blurring as blood soaked through cotton. "It'll come. It has to."

* * *

><p>"Some bad news, I'm afraid."<p>

"_Now _what?"

"The press have got hold of the story. I've got that bitch from National News on the phone right now."

Tsuki stared in furious dismay at his campaign manager on the other side of the table. "Great. Just great. I've already spent nearly _six__million_ bribing the Justice. _Now_ you're telling me the press are on it?"

She managed to return a commiserating smile. "I'm afraid you won't be able to keep your son out of a prison term this time. The lawyer says the case against him is almost water-tight - three reliable witnesses will be difficult to contest. If he doesn't receive a sentence, the media is definitely going to smell a rat, and then we all might as well pack up and go home."

"Do you think I'm a fucking moron?" Tsuki snapped back. "Of course I bloody know that. So what do we fucking do now?"

"Well," the campaign manager struggled to inject some false optimism into her voice. "We can't put the cat back in the bag, but we can still put a positive spin on it."

"My son is going to prison for armed robbery," Tsuki snarled back. "How the fuck can you put a _positive __spin_ on that?"

"Well, the more we try and cover it up, the more criticism we'll attract. But - and think about this - if we are open about it... you know... turn around and say _Moments __like __these __make __us __realise __that __no __matter __how __good __our __intentions, __there __are __evils __out __there __from __which __we __cannot __protect __our __children __forever. __There __comes __a __time __in __every __child's __life __when __they __need __to __make __decisions __on __their __own, __and __a __time __when __every __parent __must __allow __them __to __make __that __leap, __to __leave __the __nest, __and __give __them __that __space __to __learn __and __grow. __My __son __has __made __a __mistake, __but __he __has __also __vowed __to __reform __himself, __and __I __have __vowed __that __he __should __do __his __duty __to __society. __I __will __accept __whatever __decision __the __judge __hands __down, __because __I __believe __in _justice!... or something like that."

There followed a silence.

"Hn," Tsuki pursed his lips momentarily. "I guess... that might work."

* * *

><p>The visitation window was glass. A small telephone on the side of the booth let him hear his voice. It prickled his pride more than anything else that he should be relegated to using the standard visitor centre like any other relative of any other two-bit criminal. Here, in the same prison he'd overseen for the past eight years. He wrinkled his nose in distaste.<p>

"How have you been, son?"

Was it his imagination, or were the eyes that looked back at him darker than he remembered? Changed, somehow? That boy had always been trouble. Always messing things up. Still, Tsuki couldn't help but shudder slightly. He knew, after all. He knew exactly what happened on the inside of a place like this.

"I'm fine."

The words were cold. Monotonous. Accusatory.

_This __is __not __my __son_, Tsuki realised at that moment. _He __will __never __be __my __son __again_.

"Not... not in any trouble... are you?"

The boy – for Tsuki would always think of him as a boy – tilted his head slightly.

"I'm joining a gang."

"Oh," Tsuki leaned forwards slightly. His eyes brightened a little. "That's good." If he was in a gang, at least they wouldn't be riding him. He was a strong lad. Tsuki knew he could fight. Could hold his own. With luck... with luck he would survive this place. With luck, Tsuki wouldn't have to worry about anything.

"Just don't... don't do anything to extend your sentence, all right?" He leaned forward seriously. "That's the trick to this place. Get out as soon as you can, you hear me? I'm going to talk to the new overseer – I'm going to ask him to keep his eye on you, all right? Make sure you're doing okay."

"Oh," the smile that played at one corner of the boy's lips made Tsuki feel cold. "He's already been doing that. _Keeping __an __eye __on __me_."

"What do you mean?" Tsuki demanded, suddenly afraid, leaning forward with wide eyes. "What do you mean? What has he done?"

"It's nothing. Nothing I can't handle." The boy grinned again. There was something maniacal in his stare. Something mad. Tsuki clawed at the receiver, pressing it against his ear like a lifeline.

"If he's hurt you... if he's hurt you I'll..."

The boy raised his hand, the light of his smile still lingering about his lips, darkening his eyes with the contrast. "I told you. I'm taking care of it. The gang... the gang is gonna look after me now. They're strong. And there's this guy – this guy who takes care of me..."

Tsuki's face immediately grew pale. "You mustn't... don't let them..."

"It's okay. He's my teacher. He's all right. No one else... no one else touches me."

Tsuki's mouth hung open in despair.

The boy saw his look, and frowned in annoyance. "Don't look at me like that. Stuff happens, okay?"

"But your sentence...?"

"It's okay. Stanley's looking after me. I've got everything sorted."

"_Stanley_?" Tsuki put his hand flat against the glass. "Wait... _Stanley __Q_?"

"Yeah," the boy narrowed his eyes. "You know... the one _you_ used to fuck."

"_Wha-_" Tsuki stared into the dark eyes of his son in horror. "But-" he stammered in astonishment. "No, wait, I-"

The boy rose abruptly from his chair. The prison guards behind him immediately came forward, cuffs in hand, ready to escort the prisoner back to his cell.

"Wait! You can't trust him!" Tsuki called out fearfully, "Stanley just wants revenge! Don't-"

"Don't come back here again, dad," the boy spat his parting venom down the receiver. "You didn't lift a fucking finger to help me avoid this place. Well, I don't need any of your help now either. I've already decided. I'm going to make it to the top. You don't need to worry about me. I'm going to _rule_ this prison. You'll see."

He flung the receiver down and turned towards the guards.

"Wait!" Tsuki leapt out of his chair. He banged his fist frantically on the glass, even though he knew he could not be heard. "Liron! Liron, wait!"

His son did not look back at him.

**The ****beginning ****is ****always ****today.  
><strong>(Mary Shelley)

"Oi!"

At the sound of Sakuragi's brash voice, Kogure looked up from where he was mostly hidden by the collection of dining tables now gathered on the scrubby grass. Sakuragi was grinning, his hands deep in his pockets as he sauntered through the now-empty dining area towards them.

Just behind his left shoulder, Jin stalked wearing a look of restrained patience as if temporarily humouring Sakuragi's enthusiasm, but leaving no one in any doubt that he was really the one in charge. He looked small, Kogure felt, compared to Sakuragi's athletic massiveness.

Kyota, right behind them, also wore a smile, although his eyes moved a little nervously towards Jin every now and again, as if aware of the drama that was liable to unfold should Sakuragi overstep the mark.

Kogure stared at them tiredly for a moment, before his eyes moved compulsively beyond them, to focus on the building behind. Their appearance, along with their pleased demeanour, could only mean one thing – their task had gone to plan.

A wave of nervous doubt immediately overcame him, and his heart thumped loudly against his ribcage. "So," he muttered quietly to himself, taking a long breath to sooth his sudden rush of adrenaline, "the fire's lit."

Mitsui flashed him a quick look of concern, before stepping forward to greet the arrivals. "No problems?" he called out, something in his voice a little affected, no doubt bothered by Kogure's strange demeanour.

"None at all," Kyota replied cheerfully as he stepped carefully through the hole in the fence. "Didn't even get my fingers burnt."

Sakuragi had to duck his head to fit through the gap. "Looks like you guys managed the fence okay," he commented glibly.

"But the doors," Kogure interrupted, his voice tight, ignoring Sakuragi's comment. "The doors still haven't opened. Nobody's come through this way."

Jin's eyes slid warily over to him. "That's a good thing," he replied coolly. "Otherwise we'd be overrun with panicking morons and nobody would get out at all."

"But if the fire's already spreading..." Kogure's voice trailed off. He tried not to think how each second that passed took the fire further through the cell blocks. He tried not to imagine what it would be like to die trapped in a burning cell.

Mitsui put a firm hand on his shoulder. "We can only do what we can," he said bracingly, "and trust the others, so let's finish this."

"Right," Sakuragi enthused, nodding his head and grasping the edge of one dining table. With a grunt he managed to lift one side off the floor. "We just need one table on top of the other, right?"

Kyota and Mitsui immediately stepped forward to help lift the other side of the diabolically heavy table. They were all soon slick with sweat in the effort of lifting the thing. Jin stood back and gestured directions to them, while Kogure remained where he was, his eyes staring blankly at the block.

It seemed so normal, so quiet, not a sight nor a sound to suggest that anything was wrong.

_Maki __and __Fujima __were __meant __to __open __the __doors..._ he thought nervously, shifting his feet where he stood. _What's __keeping __them?_

* * *

><p>Maki's hand was still on Fujima's shoulder as they moved along the corridor towards the security room. It was a relatively cramped, hexagonal structure, windowed all the way around, set in a central meeting point of several corridors. The cells radiated outwards in all directions around it, a small nebulous inside the cell maze.<p>

The security room was a storage place for files, confiscated articles, roosters and rotas and other paraphernalia associated with the daily guard shifts. It also, more significantly, held a number of screens which relayed the feed from security cameras positioned throughout the blocks , and housed two computers through which the prison's network could be accessed. From this place, on an ordinary day, guards would begin and end their patrols.

But today was not an ordinary day.

Maki couldn't help but smile as they approached. Now the room stood empty and abandoned. Now, it belonged to them.

The door was splintered, hanging off its hinges and peppered with bullet holes. The scars of Fujima's erratic firing were sprayed right across the entrance-way. Craters and fragments of shattered glass and wood littered the floor and just beyond the door lay Stanley's man. The dark blossoms on his shirt showed quite clearly the three bullets he'd taken to the chest. His face was ashen grey, and he wasn't breathing.

Fujima stopped abruptly in the doorway so that Maki almost bumped into him. Maki knew that they would need to step over the disturbing corpse in order to enter the room, and gently squeezed Fujima's shoulder in reassurance.

But Fujima wasn't looking at the dead man, Maki realised after a moment. His eyes were fixed on something else. Furrowing his brow, Maki looked past Fujima's shoulder to stare into the room.

His smile vanished.

"Oh," he began, "shit."

Directly across from the doorway, the computers sat on a large desk. Two archaic machines with large, unwieldy CRT monitors, grimy keyboards and off-white roll-ball mice sat above humming tower cases.

Fujima stepped towards the computers in a half-daze, not even glancing at the dead man by his feet. Maki swallowed nervously.

The machines were meant to give them the access to the prison system they needed to end the lock down in the block. Except, they could now see, both monitors were quietly smoking, their displays shattered into completely incomprehensible blackness by the bullets that had passed through them.

Maki could not help but suck in his breath. The irony of the situation weighed heavily on him. Fujima had saved his life, but this was the cost.

"Fuck," Fujima swore vehemently, before springing into action and hurrying forwards, rapping each of the keyboards swiftly, hoping against hope that at least one would still work.

For a moment, Maki was unable to move.

_I __am __one __life. _He told himself. _This __prison __holds __thousands. __He __chose __to __save __me. Did he__ choose __wrong?_

He looked down at his hands and felt his skin crawl.

Irritated with himself, he closed his eyes, let out a breath, and pushed it all aside. _Jin __would __laugh __at __me_, he reminded himself severely. _So __pathetic, __Shinichi? __So __fucking __sentimental? __Get __over __yourself._

He gave an small shake of his head and looked about the room once again, more objectively this time. Some of the feeds from the security cameras had gone out, leaving crackling static on rounded glass sets. Some showed empty corridors, lifeless corners and junctions. The place was under a lock down, after all. No one would be leaving their cells. Only three cameras showed any hint of their secret workings behind the scenes.

One was blacked out, not static but solid darkness. _That __must __be __Mitsui __and __Kogure __covering __the __camera __in __the __dining __hall_, Maki noted.

The other two screens were of more concern. Smoke, dark and billowing, just the sort that rises from burning gasoline, was rapidly filling a corridor. Two cameras had picked it up so far, but more would undoubtedly find it as the smoke spread.

Too fast. Jin had been too successful, too quickly.

"Fire's lit," Maki muttered in a low voice.

Fujima craned his neck around to see the television screens and swore loudly in dismay. He turned back to the useless computers and stood, immobile, biting his lip as he tried to think his way around an impossible situation.

"Okay," he said finally, running two nervous hands through his hair and preventing himself panicking through sheer force of will. "Okay. Here's what we can do. I'll try and plug one of these computers into one of the surveillance monitors. You-" he glanced back at Maki briefly, "-see if there is a handbook or some instructions for operating the machines. Worst comes to worst, we can always try to press the buttons without the screen."

_As if that would work, _Maki thought cynically, but for a lack of any other ideas, did as he was asked. He began dragging open filing drawers and toppling mountains of paper in his hunt while Fujima hurriedly broke his way into the plastic mount surrounding the surveillance monitors and reached back to snatch up a handful of wires.

In one of the desk drawers, Maki discovered a small tin containing screwdrivers, pliers and other basic tools which he spun across the floor in Fujima's direction. "Here," he called, "these might help." Fujima snatched up the tin gratefully, and Maki returned to his search.

The place was an untidy mess. Things had been filed haphazardly, with many documents left in piles on desks. The manual, or any instructions for the computers at all, remained illusive. But there must be something, somewhere... he frowned. Stanley's men had had to use the machines to lock the doors in the first place.

He glanced up at the corpse that lay slowly cooling in the doorway and quickly moved forwards. He felt no revulsion touching the body - he'd seen enough of them – and a brief rummage through the pockets revealed what he was looking for.

"Got it!' he exclaimed, holding the crumpled sheets up in the air and turning back towards his companion.

Fujima, however, was looking increasingly panicked. There was sweat on his brow and a fearful look in his eye. In his right hand he held a cable leading from the back of the computer tower. In his left he had tilted back the large television monitor to reveal the socket at the back which was no where near the same size.

Maki frowned as he considered the picture before his eyes. "It won't fit," he announced into the tension.

Fujima looked up at him, his eyes filled with a desperate, maddened hope, as if Maki might be able to think of something, suggest something, that would solve this impossible problem.

"It won't fit," Maki repeated again, shaking his head. "There's nothing we can do."

Fujima's brows furrowed in dire anger. "There must be," he said, his voice suddenly loud and afraid. "There must be some way... the computers are still working... there must be something that..."

Maki refrained from rolling his eyes and looked away from the babbling Fujima, out into the corridor. Was he imagining it, or was there a faint smell of smoke in the air? He turned to look down the corridor on the right. He wasn't imagining it. Black smoke was already gathering in a frothy cloud along the ceiling. Rising exclamations of panic were beginning to come from the cells, gradually rising in intensity as the smoke drew ever closer. Their time was nearly up.

Fujima was frantically breaking off the plastic fixture at the end of the cable and was trying to cut away the black, rubbery surround the reveal the many small wires underneath. It was difficult work with only a pair of pliers. Maki reached over and grabbed his arm.

"There isn't time," he stated. "We've got to go."

Fujima shook off his grip and stared up at him.

"We can't go," he stated fearfully. "We're not done. If I can twist the raw cables together somehow then it might..."

"That's not going to work, and there's no time," Maki repeated, more insistently. "The smoke is already here. If we stay any longer we might not be able to get out at all."

"But, what about the manual?"

"Don't be ridiculous. That's not going to work either."

Fujima stared up at him, and then his eyes flickered compulsively towards the corridor where he could see the approaching smoke for himself. He turned very pale, but when he looked back at Maki, he only shook his head defiantly.

"The doors are still closed," he said. "I'm not going anywhere until they're open."

Maki's eyes first widened in surprise, then narrowed in irritation. "Don't be stupid. There's no way you can get the bloody things to work. If we don't go now, we're going to die here."

Fujima huffed angrily, and turned back to the wires. "You can go. I'm staying here."

Maki's jaw went slack and he stepped back a pace in disbelief. He watched Fujima's hunched shoulders, the back of his head, his trembling, fearful fingers that fumbled their way around the wires. The smell of smoke wafted more insistently through the air and tickled the back of his throat ominously. He was angry and afraid. He tried to swallow his fear, but it kept churning in his chest. His instincts told him to turn and run. He didn't move.

"Why?" he demanded after a moment. His voice sounded strange. Foggy – as if he was listening to himself speak from the other side of a door. Not like him at all.

"What?"

"Why,... he gestured around him a little wildly, "...you want to die for them? Those fucking bastards? You're mad. All of them are fucking arseholes. And you – you're a _rider_, for godsakes. I know what they do to riders. I've seen what they've done – to Kogure – to Jin. They all deserve to die. Those bastards should all go rot in hell."

Fujima slammed the pliers down loudly on the desktop and glared up at him.

"I know all of that," he hissed, his eyes suddenly bright with fury. "You don't think I'd kill them all myself, if I had the chance?"

Maki glared at him. "Why, then?" his voice echoed loudly.

Fujima scowled. "Because this is our job. Because this is what we have to do. Everyone else has a job to do, too. Do you want to be the only one who failed? Do you want to walk up to Sendoh, when all this is over, and explain to him why you couldn't do the one small fucking thing he asked you to do?"

Maki opened his mouth in astonishment, but Fujima continued over his protest.

"I'm not doing this for those bastards out there, I'm doing this for _us_," he concluded ferociously. "Because we're a gang. A team. A _family_. I'm not going to let anybody down. Do you think I wouldn't die for that?" He paused, and licked his lips nervously. Maki waited, but Fujima only sighed and turned back to his work. "Go if you want."

Maki didn't move. He stood stock still in an unpleasant whirl of anger, fear, and disbelief. For a while he could think of nothing to say, and every second he knew brought the death-laden smoke a step closer. He looked longingly towards the door. Their fast disappearing escape route.

_Now __what?_ He closed his eyes and tried to conjure an imagine of him. _Jin, __what __do __I __do __now? What would you do, if you were here instead of me?_

He didn't have to think too hard about it. Jin would run. Jin wouldn't even have bothered with this fool's errand in the first place. Because Jin was cold, and quietly vengeful, and completely without mercy. He would let them burn, and he would laugh about it afterwards.

Yes, Jin would leave this damn fool here to die along with the rest of the prison's scum without a backwards glance.

Maki glanced down at the tattoo on his arm and remembered what he'd said the first day he'd ever clapped eyes on Sendoh Akira.

_Defending __the __other __sects __is __our __pride __as __twenty-eights, __isn't __it, __Mitsui?_

He looked again at Fujima as the boy continued to struggle with the fragments of wires, and knew it was all pointless.

_I __know __why __you __picked __me __instead __of __Sakuragi_, he realised, picturing Sendoh in his mind. _Because __you __knew __Sakuragi __would __run, __but __I __would __stay __with __him. __You __knew __I'd __stay, __Sendoh __Akira, __you __fucking __bastard._

He scowled and stepped closer to Fujima, trying to ignore the clouds of smoke and the ever-increasing stinging in his eyes.

"Here," he said finally, gruffly, picking up one of the screwdrivers from the small toolbox. "I'll open up the back of the TV."

Fujima blinked in surprise before sparing him a small, apologetic smile.

* * *

><p>Sendoh shuddered as Stanley slowly, almost gently, put his hands around his throat, and paused there. Then, with deliberate care he lifted first one side of his collar, then the other, trailing both his fingers and his eyes over Sendoh's skin.<p>

"You have a soft neck," he said with a hushed, creeping voice. "Very... snappable."

Sendoh did not move but glared back at him. Kaede nearby did not react at all.

"Your pulse," Stanley continued with a smirk, "it's fast."

He was close. Uncomfortably close. Sendoh could see the pores on his face, the red lines in his eyes, the age that had crept up on him too quickly. Crime, drugs, gangs and prison, all of it had made Stanley Q old before his time.

"What did you mean, about Liron Kai?" Sendoh demanded, determined not to lose sight of the situation. He did his best not to flinch as Stanley placed two hands on his thighs. "He's dead. Everyone knows he's dead."

"Not too long ago, everyone in this prison knew _all _the six were dead," Stanley smirked. "And yet, here's one, right in front of us," he slid his hands suggestively up Sendoh's inner thighs. "Who's to say there wouldn't be another?"

Sendoh gave away nothing but a mere blink of his eyes. "Where is he, then?" he hissed right back.

Stanley's face twisted slightly, and with a sudden jerk of motion he seized the front of Sendoh's shirt and hauled him upwards. __Fuck, ____he's ____strong__, Sendoh realised as he felt himself almost lifted off his feet, half-standing, half-dangling helplessly from Stanley's grip.

"That," Stanley replied gruffly, giving Sendoh a rough shake, "is what I'm here to find out."

Sendoh opened his mouth to retort, but stopped when he felt, and then heard, to his horror, the quiet ping of a pin hitting the floor. It took every inch of his self-control not to look down towards the noise by his feet. For the first time, Kaede shifted a little where he sat as the pin dropped from its hiding place in Sendoh's waistband and hit the floor beside him.

Sendoh's eyes met Stanley's, and for a second he could not think of anything to say. _Distract __him_, he told himself. _Say __something. __Anything._ _Just __don't __let __him __notice._ But every fragment of his mental energy was focused on that tiny piece of metal laying inconspicuously somewhere by his feet. Their only lifeline, unpleasantly exposed.

"Why should you care about Liron Kai anyway?" he demanded in desperation, the only thing he could think to say. "He was Kaede's teacher, not yours."

Stanley let go of Sendoh's shirt so abruptly that Sendoh crashed to the floor with a gasp of surprise. With his wrists still cuffed behind him he had no way to soften his landing, and his hip took the full force of his fall.

As Stanley turned away, Sendoh glanced up at him from beneath his brow and saw that the man was almost shaking with fury.

_Hit a nerve_? He wondered to himself. _But why? What does Liron Kai have to do with anything?_

"No, Liron wasn't my teacher, you smart mouthed little shit," Stanley hissed coldly. "He was my student."

Sendoh blinked, and noticing Kaede looking quietly at him, felt suddenly self-conscious and turned his gaze away. Moving one leg he shuffled himself until the pin that had fallen to the floor was trapped securely under his thigh, then began the slow and delicate process of reaching for it with his hand without being noticed.

At the sound of Liron's name, a series of small, terrified hiccups had come from Tsuki, still wide eyed and afraid in his seat. The noise attracted Stanley's attention, and he turned towards him instead.

"You know, I probably ought to be grateful to you," he hissed, stepping closer to Tsuki and causing the man to tremble. "If it wasn't for you, I probably wouldn't have looked twice at Liron. All I wanted was a way to get back at you. Who would have thought your son would fall right into my path?" he sneered unpleasantly.

Sendoh lifted his head in surprise. _Son?_ He moved his eyes between Stanley and Tsuki. A quick glance at Kaede told him that he hadn't known it either. _Liron was Tsuki's son? _He narrowed his eyes.

_A perfect little triangle – Tsuki, Stanley and Liron._

_But all of this was long before my time. Even before Kaede's time. Why are we here? What has this grudge got to do with us? _

_Why are these giants of the past still catching us up in their old squabbles? _

Stanley suddenly let out a short, barking laugh. "But that was stupid. Liron wasn't you. Wasn't even _like _you. He was... he was..." he trailed off, "...well, he was my student, back when the numbers were first coming together. We were gaining a lot of power very quickly. We were... a team. For four years, we worked together. I couldn't have done it without him."

Kaede's expression flickered with a look of disgusted cynicism that seemed to be telling a completely different story.

"If he had... if he had just kept working with me... everything would have been fine. But then old Musura died, and I suggested Liron to replace him at the head of the twenty-eights. And then everything started changing. He came in front of us and _announced_ that he was taking a student. _Announced __it_! Like he had the right to decide!"

Suddenly animated, Stanley slammed one fist into the wall with an almighty thump.

"_I_ was head of the twenty-threes. _I_ was the one to assign teachers to students. But they all acted like it was fine, like it was _normal_. He was strong already, by then. They didn't like to argue with him. And I... I didn't want to disappoint him. Besides, the bitch looked weak. Skinny, pathetic thing. Just a kid. _Won't __survive __him_, I thought. _Won't__ survive __long __in __this __place_. Fuck!"

He whirled on Kaede so fast that Sendoh barely had time to freeze in the action of jamming the pin into the gap in his handcuffs.

In moments, Stanley had two hands around Kaede's neck and was squeezing with all his strength. Kaede was sent falling backwards with a snarl under Stanley's assault. He twisted his body furiously, handcuffs grating over the wooden floor, but Stanley's thrust his knee painfully into his chest, face twisting like a demon.

"Survived all the rest of them, didn't you, you miserable little whore?" he spat furiously.

"Stop!" Sendoh cried out, struggling to his knees, not knowing how to break them apart. "Wait! Wait! You kept Kaede alive! You made Norio keep him alive! You can't – you can't kill him now!"

Stanley paused. His hands remained tight around Kaede's throat, and he ignored Kaede's feeble kicks and struggles as if they were the pitiful protests of a child. Then, as he slowly released his grip on Kaede's neck, he remained still, looking down at Kaede gasping and wheezing painfully. Sendoh did not dare to move while Stanley was still so volatile. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, Stanley spat straight into Kaede's face and moved away.

Sendoh let out his breath in relief. Kaede struggled to sit up, straining at his handcuffs and struggling to catch his breath.

One thing was clear, Sendoh realised. Kaede was in no condition to fight. He was too weak, too frail, to be of any effect against Stanley at all. He turned his eyes back towards Stanley, and tried to strengthen his faltering nerves. It was going to be up to him, in the end, to somehow overcome this man. He continued to work the pin in his handcuffs with determination, all the while keeping his wide eyes glued to Stanley.

"Do you really think," Stanley managed to snarl in anger, "that I'd choose this fucking bitch over Liron? Don't be so fucking stupid. What does it matter to me if he's alive or dead?" He began pacing back and forth angrily.

_You're __nervous_, Sendoh realised in that second, _of __what __Liron __will __do __if __he __hears __you __killed __his __student_. _That's __why __you __couldn't __just __kill __him __before. __Liron __was __protecting __him __from __you. __Liron __is __still __protecting __him __from __you. __But __then, __why __did __you __choose __to __keep __him __alive __in __the __first __place?_

Sendoh furrowed his brows in confusion, and Stanley continued to pace, explaining as he moved.

"When I saw how Liron was... distracted by this little bitch... I knew I needed to do something to end the apprenticeship. I couldn't just kill him – Liron was watching him too closely for that. No, there was only one way of ending it. The same way I had accidentally ended mine."

Sendoh blinked in surprise. "Make them the same rank," he realised.

Stanley paused in his steps and smirked coldly. "Unluckily, the same rank meant replacing myself. It wasn't like I was prepared to kill myself over it, but it was easy enough to convince them that they needed me on the outside. They even arranged my escape. You probably think it was Liron who gave you the twenty threes," Stanley flashed his eyes towards Kaede, "but it wasn't. It was me. It was pretty simple. Liron would lose control of the bitch, and then, with nothing to keep him on the inside, he would find a way back to me."

Sendoh widened his eyes. _How __naïve. __Does __Stanley __really __believe __that __Liron __actually... __cared __about __him? __You've __got __to __be __kidding __me._

"But it didn't work out," Stanley's face turned dark once again. "Because you... you _didn't __fucking __leave __him_."

Even Sendoh had to look towards Kaede. This was something even he was keen to know. _Why __hadn't __Kaede __broken __free __from __Liron __when __he __had __become __head __of __the __twenty-threes? __Why __did __he __remain __the __only __one __of __the __six __to __be __called... __a __rider?_

Kaede continued to sit quietly. His head drooped tiredly towards the floor in that familiar attitude of calm resignation that Sendoh had seen so many times before. For a moment it seemed like Kaede hadn't been listening at all, but then he took a shuddering breath, and lifted his eyes to meet Stanley's.

And all at once he seemed... different. For the first time, Sendoh realised, he saw in Kaede's eyes a dark and dangerous anger. He had always been strong, but now there was something more than mere endurance. There was the desire for retaliation. There was hot vengeance. And there was not, not even in the smallest amount, any trace of fear.

"You're mad," he said, his voice low and quiet, slicing the air dangerously. "Liron spent four _years_ building his way up to the head of the twenty-eights. I had _ten __months_. I was sixteen years old. I had no influence, no power, no respect, and plenty of enemies. You think you can give me a name, and that makes it so? Liron was a monster and a vicious, dangerous bastard, but he was the only thing that kept me alive from the day I entered this shit hole until the day he died."

Stanley drew himself up furiously. "How like you," he sneered, "making excuses for being so pathetically weak." His voice, Sendoh noticed, held less conviction than before.

Sendoh glanced nervously at Kaede. His eyes were ablaze. _His __body __is __weak, __but __he __still __burns. __He __is __still __alive. __Still __fighting. __The __same __way __he __has __always __been. __Norio __couldn't __break __him. __Stanley __will __be __no __different. _He felt a little more hopeful, just from that.

But still, something struck Sendoh about Kaede's words. _The __day __he __died_. No question. No room for uncertainty. Kaede spoke as if Liron were truly dead.

He frowned deeply. "So," he questioned in confusion, "your plan to separate Liron from Kaede didn't work so you... decided to destroy the very gang you built?"

Stanley turned and glared at him.

"I sent in Norio," he confirmed. "But my aim wasn't to destroy the gang. I needed him to gain Tsuki's trust, and the easiest way to do that was by cooperating against the numbers. But what I really needed was for Tsuki to keep Liron alive, and to help him escape. All I wanted was Liron."

"But then... why did you keep Kaede alive instead?"

Stanley smirked, a little congratulatory smile for himself. "Tsuki knew of my relationship to Liron, so I couldn't just get Norio to pick Liron straight out. That would be too suspicious. Kaede was the youngest, the newest, the easiest to break – just the kind of kid who might give Tsuki what he wanted – a way into the Tokyo Sect. That's why Norio recommend saving Kaede, but the whole thing was always just a sham.

"I just needed to show Tsuki the way. I knew Tsuki was Liron's father. I knew, once he realised that he could save one of the six, he would step in and secretly do the same for his own son. I made sure he had every possible opportunity to do so." He looked over at Tsuki who was as pale as a ghost. "What father wouldn't do that?"

Sendoh's eyes were wide. "You took a big gamble."

Stanley let out a cold laugh. "A gamble? Hardly. You should know by now how corrupt this bastard is."

Sendoh furrowed his brows, and his eyes moved compulsively towards the miserable man still tied to his chair.

Tsuki lifted his eyes and stared at the triumphant Stanley in fear. The seconds passed, and Sendoh shifted awkwardly where he sat, feeling the tension fluctuating like a pendulum. Kaede beside him was a taut as a wire, his eyes, too, fixed on Tsuki.

Finally Tsuki licked his lips, his eyes twitching slightly in nervousness. He tilted his head confusedly. "Stanley," his voice was placating. "Stanley, I didn't do it. I didn't save him."

Stanley's arrogant sneer slowly vanished. Very quietly he turned where he stood to face Tsuki.

"Don't lie to me," he hissed. "Don't lie."

Tsuki had turned as pale as anything. "I'm not... I'm sorry I'm... I'm not I... I wish I had... but I... I didn't... he's dead... Stanley... he's dead."

With a slow, deliberate motion, Stanley reached over the desk and picked up the baton he had been playing with earlier. A long, black, wooden bat. It looked very solid, Sendoh thought nervously. Tsuki seemed to recognise it, and looked at it fearfully.

"Liar," Stanley spat, his voice low and furious, raising the baton above his head angrily. "You goddamn liar."

Sendoh could not held but screw his eyes shut in anticipation of the blow.

"He's dead," Kaede snapped, so loudly and so finally that Sendoh nearly jumped.

Stanley paused, and then turned towards them, baton still held high, eyes flashing in fury.

Kaede stared right back at him, his expression set hard with a fury of his own. "He's dead," Kaede repeated insistently. "Liron Kai is dead. I was there when they led him away. I sat and I waited and I felt him die."

Sendoh turned towards Kaede in surprise.

"Liron Kai is dead," he said again. "I know he is dead. And if you had even half the affinity with him that you claim you had, you would know it too."

For a moment Stanley did not react. Then, with a howl like a furious, wounded beast, he turned on Tsuki.

Sendoh nearly cowered at the sound of his rage. It rung like primal terror in every fibre. It was strength and agony. Power and madness. With a fumbling, desperate swing, Stanley swung the baton round and sent it crashing into the side of Tsuki's skull. He did not stop, but lifted it again and again, bringing it down in a furious frenzy of blows, each enough to shatter bone. The miserable tyrant's body jerked and pumped with every hit, blood splattering from his mouth, his nose, his shattered face and down over his chin.

Sendoh could not hold back his exclamation of fear at the sight of such violent brutality. His body seemed to take on unwanted, fearful convulsions of its own, like a grotesque mirror to Tsuki's demise.

_I'm frightened._ He realised in horror. _I am truly afraid._

He was aware of Kaede's quiet stillness beside him, and he tried to draw strength from it.

By the time Stanley lowered the baton, Tsuki was unrecognisable. From his feet to his shoulders he appeared human, but everything above the neck was nothing but gore. He didn't move again.

Blood dripped darkly from the tip of the baton as Stanley turned to face them.

_I don't have the luxury of fear_, Sendoh tried to tell himself sternly, his mouth still agape, his mind reeling. He had to fight back the instinct to be sick. _I have to face this... I have to... because I cannot bare to watch it happen to Kaede next._

He tried to draw himself upright, knowing he was staring down a deranged murderer.

_Liron __Kai __is __dead. _He realised. _Kaede's __one __great __protector __is __gone. __I __am __the __only __thing __standing __between __him __and __Stanley __now._

With a last, desperate twist of the pin, he felt the handcuffs that held him finally break open.

* * *

><p>"Done!" Sakuragi exclaimed, dusting his hands exuberantly. Nearby, Mitsui and Kyota sunk wearily to the floor.<p>

Jin put his hands on his hips, surveying their work approvingly. The stacked tables reached high enough up the wall that any of them could jump up and catch the top of the wall. Then it was simply a matter of pulling themselves up and over, and they could drop safely on the far side of the T-block wall.

"Good work," he acknowledged with just a glimmer of a smile. He turned towards Kogure behind him, only to realise that the boy wasn't there.

Jin's sharp eyes flashed immediately back to the dining hall where, he could see, Kogure was standing close to the open door, watching the thick black smoke that was now pumping through.

"Kogure!" he called sharply, and Mitsui was on his feet immediately.

Kogure turned his head to look back at them, an indescribable expression on his face. Then, he took an uncertain step towards the block.

"Hey! Wait!" Jin's voice sounded louder, and shriller, than he'd ever thought it could.

Mitsui was already running.

"Sakuragi!" Jin whirled around fiercely. "Sakuragi, stop him!"

Sakuragi, too, was already on the move, but Kogure was too far from them, and too close to the block. The boy lifted his hands over his head and waved at them, almost cheerfully.

"You go on ahead!" he called. "I just need to go and see... I might be able to help!"

"Kiminobu!" Mitsui roared with a desperate fury which caught even Jin off guard with its intensity. Mitsui crashed into the wire fence and scrabbled desperately to fit through the gap.

Kogure, still well beyond Mitsui's reach, gave his student a sad, sorry smile. Jin narrowed his eyes as he surveyed Kogure's expression intently. It was easy to read.

_If I can save even one person, it will have been worth it. Everything I have endured, might have some meaning. If I can save even one person, I might just be able... to forgive myself._

Jin set his expression and sighed.

"Sakuragi!" he called, lifting a hand, "stop Mitsui!"

The crash was monumental. One moment, Sakuragi's hands were moving, and the next, Mitsui was lifted well off his feet and smashing noisily into the ground. Kogure lifted his eyes to Jin for a moment, a warm look of gratitude flashing over his features before a billow of smoke obscured him from view, and he had vanished through the doorway.

Mitsui was still struggling against Sakuragi's weight, trying desperately to push him away. Sakuragi looked over at Jin, who nodded briefly, and an elbow to the temple knocked Mitsui out cold.

Kyota moved to stand wide-eyed next to Jin. "What the fuck just happened?" he said.

Jin let out a long breath and shook his head.

"Hey!" Sakuragi called from where he was dragging the unconscious Mitsui back through the fence. "Hey, why'd you let that kid go inside?"

"He'd made his decision," Jin replied as Sakuragi drew closer.

"What do you mean? What about Mitsui's decision?"

"Mitsui wasn't thinking at all. If he's so keen to run off and die, there'll be plenty of time for him to do that later."

"You're cold," Sakuragi said, his eyes darkening in dislike.

Jin ignored him. "We stick to the plan," he announced. "We've done all we can here. Now we need to get to the perimeter and wait for our chance."

"We're not going to wait for Sendoh?"

"That was never part of the plan," Jin replied. "Sendoh said himself that he had no idea what might happen. Wherever he is, he's on his own."

"Rukawa might be with him," Kyota pointed out optimistically.

Sakuragi did not look convinced. "The cell doors haven't opened," he added, "just like that kid said. Nothing else is going to plan, so why should we?"

"If Maki hasn't opened the doors, it just means they cannot be opened," Jin snapped sharply.

Kyota lifted his head in surprise. _That's right,_ he remembered. _Are you worried about Maki?_ He stared at Jin, whose usually calm expression has disintegrated into a scowl. _Is that why you could understand Kogure's desire to go back and help? Because you feel it too?_

"Let's go," Jin said finally.

Sakuragi reluctantly hoisted Mitsui over his shoulder, and the three of them set about climbing the wall.

* * *

><p>The corridors were eerie. They always were, when he walked past. A hush fell over the cells like a blanket.<p>

Moments ago, Norio reflected, there had been speech, movement, perhaps laughter, perhaps violence. Now there was nothing but the sound of his footsteps. And he enjoyed it. This power. He walked on, and just as the nervous noise behind him gradually rose, the inevitable silence fell before.

He had a number of... beneficiaries in this section. Kindly one might call them allies, realistically they were snitches. He made a point of walking slowly past those cells, but heads stayed down, no signals were given. Either they didn't know anything, or they weren't saying.

Norio frowned. Of course, they all knew now that he was working with Stanley. To them, it would look like he was working with the _numbers_. Were the inmates more wary of him because of that? Or perhaps they had begun to realise that Norio's time in this prison was coming to an end. It was no longer worth their while to seek his favour. The era of his reign was all but over. He shook his head slightly. Time to go back to being Stanley's right hand. It almost felt like he was being demoted.

He turned the corner into the west block, and stopped dead.

Norio tilted his head. The atmosphere was markedly different here. Around him, the nervous sound of fearful mutters did not cease. The expected silence refused to fall.

Suddenly, he wasn't the most fearful thing.

Through barred windows he saw faces not looking down at the floor, but looking up to him, watching him, waiting to see what he was doing there, with all the audacity of the unbroken.

The reason was drifting in the air. Norio took a breath. Smoke. Unmistakable.

Some men came forward, to the bars of the cell to press their noses out, sniffing the same way he was. They all wore similar expressions. They'd all heard the stories. Norio cycled through them quickly in his mind. Honduras – 358. Ohio Penitentiary - 322. Dominican Republic - 136. Prison fires, and prisoner deaths.

He frowned deeply. Prison fires only meant one of two things - a tragic accident, or a foolhardy and selfish escape attempt. His eyes narrowed in sudden fury. What the hell were they thinking?

The smell of smoke was stronger now. He looked again at the cells, at the wide, expectant eyes staring at him. Every man seemed to be pleading silently with him.

_They know_, he realised. _They know that death is coming for them_.

_Let us out_, they all seemed to be saying, though there remained a nervous eerie hush. _You can do it, let us out. Save us._

Norio's hands moved instinctively to the master set of keys attached to his belt.

Yes, he could open any single door, but in this one corridor alone there were over a hundred cells. Unlocking each one manually would take any number of hours. And they weren't lambs, these men. They were hardened criminals, violent and dangerous. And none of them, he was quite sure, had any love for Norio.

They looked docile enough for the moment, calmed as if like honey bees soothed by the smoke. But Norio was not fooled by such appearances. They were wasps, they were snakes, they were lions.

_If I open the doors_, he told himself, _they will jump me. They will kill me, take the key-set, but not know which keys match which doors. I would be giving my life, and it would save none of them._

He turned his eyes a little further down the corridor. The security room was the only other way to open the cell doors en masse. But he could already tell, from the direction of the smoke, that the fire lay somewhere between him and the room.

_I probably can't get there, and even if I do, I wouldn't be able to get out again._

_No. There's nothing I can do. I'll return, and warn Stanley, and that is all._

He stepped away, and immediately a number of furious howls arose from the cells around him. They had been watching him like he was their last lifeline, and now they saw that he was going to leave them there.

How they transformed! Men – turning into caged animals. Their quiet patience was at once a torrent of raging insults, furious fists against the cell bars, and utter desperation. He would be mad, quite mad, if he were to even attempt to open the cells now.

Yes, his decision was easy to justify when it was so clear that they were ready to rend him limb from limb.

He turned on his heel and strode off, back in the direction he had come, ignoring the desperate calls of the condemned.

He was halfway down the corridor when it happened. The sound – a loud buzzer, startling in its volume, echoed ferociously up and down the corridor. Norio lifted his eyes in surprise. He had three seconds.

He began to run, picking his way up to a sprint even as he reached for the gun at his waist and dragged it out of its holster.

He must have made it past twenty cells when the mechanical grinding of metal on metal lit up the place like fireworks. The familiar, echoing ring of steel bolts clanging into place shook its way down his spine as his heart leapt into his throat.

Norio willed his legs to move faster, but it was too late. Doors all around him flung open; the animals were turned loose.

Someone, Norio realised in irritation, had managed to end the lockdown.

Then, they went for him.

A man nearby bolted out of a cell in a motion that appeared - at least to Norio's eyes - foggy and slow. In a fluid movement, the inmate reached into his sleeve and pulled out a shank. It was just a piece of glass. Barely sharp at all. Norio lifted the gun and shot him in the chest. Beside him, a second man was closing in, but another bullet sent him down too. An arm was thrown around his neck from behind and Norio found himself dragged to the ground. He did not let go of the gun and loosed two more shots in the flailing and confusion. But they were on him. The threat of a gun, which hours ago was more than enough to keep these selfish brutes in line, was no deterrent at all to desperate men.

Before Norio could retaliate further, before he could even think, he was against the floor, screaming.

TBC

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><p>Damnit! I was meant to finish this fic in this chapter and I FAILED. Over nine thousand words! I guess this means you'll have to wait one more chapter to find out the ending – am I mean, or what?<p>

_**Announcement!**_

Oh – my – GOSH. This fic has reached over a hundred reviews (my first time to get 100 - /shocked!) For a category as quiet as this one, I am well aware that this is some kind of crazy – so thanks so much to everyone who has taken the time to give me encouragement (and criticism, I love criticism) along the way :D I am as much a review-addict as the next person, there really is nothing better than a nice juicy review message in my email.

The writer of the 100th review was /drumroll – **loveless raine** ! This means **loveless raine** gets the CRUSHING RESPONSIBILITY of representing all the reviewers and requesting any SD fic from me, which will be my fic-of-thanks to all of you! ^.^

I'm open to any prompt whatsoever – a title, a picture, a scene, a song, a scenario, anything at all. I'm even open to any genre and any pairing – whatever you want :D _(just please not Senhana... please not Senhana... please not Senhana...)_ Please send me a message and let me know your prompt :) I'll do my very best!

Thanks again everyone!


	25. Chapter 25

**Thine Own Palace  
>Chapter 25<strong>

I'm alive! Bwahahahahaha!

I can only apologise again and again for the delay. I changed jobs and getting started at the new place took quite a bit of settling in time. I'm in a bit more of a routine now so hopefully the writing will continue at a steadier pace! Sorry! Sorry!

**Angelchoo**: Yup. My meanness has really outdone itself this time. Sorry! Sorry! I have no excuse for making you wait this long D: I hope I don't disappoint. I think this fic is a little simpler than you are trying to make it though hahaha. There really aren't so many twists… are there? O.o

**Loveless Raine**: Your fic is well under way! I got very excited by it and wrote quite a lot but its quite character heavy so will take ages for me to get it right, of course. I'm sure everyone is relieved you picked a senru (not least of all me xD) Sorry for the delay on this one!

**Mrsklemzak**: Haha I know how much you like Sakuragi (I never really got him, although I was watching Slamdunk episodes recently and I think I have a new-found appreciation for his character. There isn't anyone like Sakuragi in Kuroko no Basket. I miss that comic relief!) I can't bear Sakuragi with Sendoh though. I can handle Ruhana/Hanaru, but Senhana is just…. Gah…. Bleugh… no. It's a bit of a cliché, but I'm a Rukawa-fan through and through :P

**Graffitivikat**: I'm not sure there's much space for cherries and whipped cream in this story haha. I don't believe in sad endings to long fics, but then again I have been known to have quite a taste for cliffhangers xD

**Svaneaalka: **Thanks for your review! Ah yes, I'm not sure the fic could fit any more characters – it's already sort of bursting at the seams haha. Liron will have to remain in the shadows a little bit. Yup yup, I think Sendoh is ready to have his moment too!

**AddictedtoSD**: Ta dah! I'm so sorry for vanishing for so long D: I hope you're still around to read this! Thanks again for your always-so-much support :D

**Kenouki**: Thanks for your support! Not too much Maki and Fujima in this chapter I'm afraid. Just another long wait til I finish writing the epilogue hahaha. Oh dear.

**Anita:** Hi there! See – I did promise I was working on it lol. Thanks so much for your "where the hell are you?" email! Sometimes I need a bit of a kick lol. I should be happy nanowrimo really got me back into the writing habit this month :). Ah yes – I do sort of lament the comparative lack of "romance" in this fic (is it even really a senru? Can't work it out lol) but the sugar and flowers and sparkly eyes thing weren't really my focus here. I like that it's a little deeper, and a little more complicated, than that.

**Rjuha**: Haha Registration is such a weird little pervy fic! I randomly came up with it one day and just bashed it out on the keyboard without much revision. Thanks so much for your hard work translating :D I'm glad your friends were able to experience some of my crazy writing hahaha – and the mixed reactions were very amusing xD

**IttyBitty**: oh-my-gosh-hi! Long time! That certainly is interesting (and inconvenient for the story lol). I remember watching in a movie how a prisoner was eating with a plastic fork (and still managed to stab his cellmate in the throat with it O.O) I guess that image is sort of stuck in my head whenever I think about prisons and cutlery lol.

**Lenguademorada**: Hello and welcome back to SD! :D You will certainly get to see the end of this fic, have no fear. It's a personal vendetta of mine not to leave any of my (current) fics unfinished, although as you may have noticed, it sometimes takes a little time haha. My old fics are pretty much abandoned though lol. I guess I don't have the same tastes as my formerly teenaged self alas. Thanks so much for the review!

* * *

><p><strong>Thine Own Palace<strong>

**Chapter 25**

Kogure drifted through the ash and the smoke as if carried on the tides. From each of his fingertips the smoke curled and swirled behind him in endless black butterflies. He felt like he was swimming in a strange, blackened world.

Faces passed him like driftwood on the tide, staring out at him from behind steel bars, each one desperate to leave the dance, and yet hopelessly caught up in its spinning, cycling madness.

There must have been noise - shouting and arguing and crying - but Kogure could hear nothing but a strange, ghostly music. The smoke shimmered around him, gathering here and there into great beasts of terror only to dissolve as he passed through their insubstantial forms.

The smoke had him in its deadly embrace. He could feel it clawing its way into his throat, into his eyes, a toxic smother. It made him blind and disorientated. But it did not make him turn back.

It wasn't long before he was on his knees, crawling his way along like a newborn. The concrete beneath his hands was the seabed - the smoke above was the dangerous, churning waves. And still the eyes followed him. The watchful, frightened eyes. Low to the floor, trapped and immobile. Nothing to do but wait.

Wait and survive, or wait and die.

Kogure carried on.

Direction became meaningless. He neither knew where he was, nor where he was going. Even up and down were no longer the eternal certainties he had always known them to be. The smoke carried him onwards in its whirling currents, and Kogure let it take him wherever it would.

No human logic or reason could carry him through these smokey floods. It was fate, and faith, or nothing at all.

He was halfway down another unknown corridor when there was a change. The ash in the air responded like a school of fish veering away from an obstacle, darting downwards in perfect circles. Kogure looked up. Three short blows on the foghorn and all around him, the doors were released.

In the centre of the corridor, Kogure sat up in grateful surprise.

He sighed in heartfelt relief as the cell doors swung open around him and inmates began to pour out.

Somehow they'd done it. Maki and Fujima had opened the doors.

The inmates hurried about him, sending the smoke into froathy turmoil. The whole corridor quickly became a place of chaos as ash and smoke was thrown in all directions, its gentle tides vanishing into white noise.

People were running this way and that, confused and afraid and desperately looking for a way out.

I'll drown, Kogure realised, crawling his way between legs and feet to the side where he anchored himself to the wall as the rapids churned all around him.

Small and alone, he closed his eyes and summoned Mitsui's face.

Keeping one hand on the wall he began to press on ahead, swimming through the smoke with great sweeps of his arm.

I must have some purpose here, he told himself firmly. I left Mitsui behind for this. I must make it count.

* * *

><p>Sendoh did not think he'd ever seen anything more terrifying in his life. Stanley was swinging his bat to and fro, dripping blood and gore across the floor, a maniacal look in his eyes, and the shattered remains of Tsuki just beyond his shoulder.<p>

He's got nothing to lose, Sendoh kept thinking to himself.

Stanley's eyes shifted between the two of them as if working out which present to open first.

_Not Kaede_, Sendoh realised desperately. _I have to keep his attention away from Kaede._

Sendoh somehow managed to fix his face into a scowl.

"You've got what you wanted," he said, hoping his words didn't sound like a last desperate plea. "Tsuki fucked with you - he's got what he deserved. So go. Get out of this shit hole. What's the point of fucking around with me? You don't even _know_ me."

Focusing on the sound of his voice, Stanley moved in his direction, taking slow, deliberate steps. His eyes were unblinking.

Sendoh swallowed. At least he'd caught Stanley's attention, but if he didn't think of something, it was going to turn out very badly for him.

Stopping directly in front of him, Stanley crouched and took hold of his chin in a vice-like grip. He forced Sendoh's face upwards so they were eye to eye. At least, Sendoh realised, meeting those cold and furious eyes, Stanley appearing to be thinking. He wasn't completely mad.

Sendoh's open handcuffs clinked quietly behind him, but he didn't try to make a move. Not yet. Not until the very last second.

"You're a strong kid," Stanley snarled finally, his face so close Sendoh could smell his breath. "Confident. A bit of attitude. Born leader. I could have done a lot with you." He licked his lips slowly, so that his meaning couldn't be clearer. "Too bad."

Sendoh didn't blink. "Fuck you," he replied, and spat straight into Stanley's eye.

Stanley didn't react. He smiled very slowly, and with his free hand, lifted up the bat, preparing to swing.

Sendoh tensed his arms, ready to defend himself.

Then the fire alarm rang.

All three of them jumped at the ear-splitting sound which suddenly blared from the bell in corner of Norio's office. Surprised, Stanley released his hold on Sendoh's jaw and turned to look at the small red fixture that was creating such an unearthly racket, while Sendoh clasped his hands together tightly behind his back, his heart jumping. He thanked all the gods he hadn't moved too soon.

The sound seemed to bring the world back to Stanley as if he was being shaken out of his enraged stupour. As if the prison suddenly returned to existence for him.

That's right, Sendoh realised. You do have something to lose. Your freedom. The police and prison authorities are all itching to get their hands on you again. You took a big risk coming here.

"What the hell?" Stanley snarled, heading to the office door and swinging it open. He looked out into the administration corridor, left and right. The noise from the alarms outside increased the volume of the ringing even further, but there were no obvious signs of disturbance.

Sendoh, too, looked at the ringing bell.

_The fire's lit_, he realised. _Is everything going to plan? Did Mitsui and Kogure manage to break through the fence? Did Fujima and Maki open the cell doors? Where's Norio now? Has he found them?_

"What the fuck have you done?" Stanley demanded from the doorway. But there was something more than fury in his eyes now. A small dose of nervousness. The bell would attract attention, from other blocks, from security. Stanley had managed to slip into T-block quietly, it didn't look as if his escape would go so smoothly now. And he knew it too. Sendoh felt a thrill. He could do this. He could pull it off.

"Where the fuck is Norio?" Stanley hissed under his breath, turning to step outside the door to see what was going on.

As soon as Stanley was out of sight, Sendoh set to work. He pulled the one remained pin out of his waist band and dug it into the small gap in Kaede's handcuffs, twisting it to find a grip as quickly as possible. He didn't know what good it would do, but if Kaede was to have any chance to get away, this was for the best.

As he worked, Kaede leaned a little closer into him, lifting his lips to Sendoh's ear and muttered, "Norio keeps a gun in his desk."

Sendoh swallowed slightly and nodded, still intent on opening the handcuffs. He didn't mention that he had never held a gun in his life, and wasn't even sure how to fire one. There wasn't any room for screw ups right now. He'd just have to learn fast.

"He's a twenty-three," Kaede added even as Sendoh pulled away, one of the cuffs open around Kaede's right wrist, hanging from the closed one on his left.

Sendoh met his eyes. He was about to ask what Kaede meant by that, but the sound of Stanley moving just outside the door sent him quickly back into his previous position. Kaede, he noticed, was mirroring him by clasping his hands together behind his back to give the appearance that they were still restrained. It occurred to Sendoh that he could have spent the time he had used releasing Kaede to go and take the gun from the desk, or at the very least perhaps position himself behind the door so he could strike at Stanley more successfully. Whatever the options, there was no chance for that now, because Stanley had re-entered the room, clearly unhappy.

Stanley took a short look at the blaring alarm, and crossed the room in three frustrated strides. Gripping the bat in two hands he swung it angrily at the noisy bell and smashed it into silence.

He's nervous, Sendoh realised. And he's alone. No matter what he may have become, he was once an inmate in this place. This room must be full of bad memories. Does that help me? Or does it just make him more dangerous?

It didn't matter. Because there was one chance. And Sendoh had decided that this was it.

He took a breath. "Welcome home, Stanley," he announced loudly. The man turned to look at him, and Sendoh was quite sure now he wasn't imagining the slightly panicked look in his eyes. "Looks like you're stuck here."

"What do you mean?" Stanley hissed suspiciously, moving around Norio's desk towards him. "What's going on?"

"Well," Sendoh began with deliberate slowness, enjoying the increasing frustration in Stanley's face. "I expect your men are dead by now. We've put your chopper out of use too. You made a big mistake, Stanley, thinking we would let you just walk out of here."

Stanley's voice remained low and furious and sure, but his eyes gave him away. They reminded Sendoh of a cornered rat. "Who do you think you are?" he demanded, gripping his bat tightly in two hands. "Don't try and play fucking games with me, you little bitch. I was king of this place before you were even born."

"You're just an old man," Sendoh retorted confidently. "You think you can do whatever you like? We aren't scared of you. You walk into T-block like you own it, but let me tell you something. This isn't your prison. This isn't Liron's prison, either. This is MY fucking prison. You wanna cause trouble here, you need my fucking _permission_, understand?"

Stanley's face turned bloodless with fury. Sendoh was reminded of his first day - his _checking_ in the dining hall. It was all an act. It was always, always an act. You were defeated as soon as you showed fear. You had lost only if you let them think you had lost. He had known those rules from the beginning. He had learnt how to play this game.

"You arrogant little bitch," Stanley spluttered, trying to recover his composure. His eyes snapped to Kaede who glared up at him challengingly. Sendoh clenched his fists, anticipating what Stanley would do next. "You think you're fucking clever, do you? Think you're better than the numbers? Well let me make things a whole lot simpler for you."

Stanley hefted the bat and planted his feet firmly apart. In one fluid motion he swung the bat round in a huge, heavy arc, sending flecks of Tsuki's blood flying as it rushed through the air, straight at Kaede.

But Kaede didn't blink as it plummeted towards his skull like a hammer. Didn't give in to natural reflexes, to move away, or lift his hands protectively. In that second, he simply waited, with a strange, unshakable faith. Stanley saw it, and in the split-second of his swing, felt puzzled by it. The next moment, the bat hit a dead stop, inches from Kaede's face, with a thud that jarred Stanley's arm and forced him to take a step back, unbalanced.

Sendoh's eyes were cold and furious. The end of the bat was caught in the firm grip of his hands. "Did you really think," he snarled, "I'd let you do that?"

Stanley stared at him, wide-eyed.

"When did you…" he began, trailing off, realising that Sendoh was long free of the handcuffs. The was a second of stillness. And then Sendoh threw a heavy punch right into his face.

Stanley staggered backwards with the blow and Sendoh followed as he went, clinging to the bat, trying to wrench it out of Stanley's grasp. Stanley did not relinquish his hold, and was ready the next time Sendoh swung his fist.

Knocking the punch aside with a well-timed parry, Stanley took the opportunity to grab the other end of the bat with his free hand and hauled it round, catapulting Sendoh into the edge of Norio's desk with a crash. Sendoh grunted painfully as the sharp edge of the desk hurt his thigh, and Stanley immediately pushed forward, effectively trapping Sendoh against the desk. Stanley grinned through gritted teeth as he used the bat like a shield, forcing Sendoh down until the bat was pressing against his throat.

"You're ten years too early to be fighting me," Stanley grunted triumphantly. Sendoh didn't reply but pushed with all his might simply to avoid being choked. Stanley was unfairly strong.

_The gun_, Sendoh remembered. He summoned all his strength to twist sideways and somehow wiggle downwards, away from Stanley's trap. Unfortunately he was forced to let go of his hold on the bat to do so. Before he'd even managed to straighten himself again, Stanley was coming at him, swinging the thing left and right like a pendulum. Sendoh dived for the relative safety of the further side of the desk, putting the furniture temporarily between them. He dragged open the expensive, mahongony drawers in a rush and pulled out Norio's handgun. Stanley stopped short when he saw it, and Sendoh wasted no time bringing it upwards and pulling the trigger in Stanley's direction. It clicked ineffectually in his hand.

_Unloaded_.

Desperately, Sendoh reached for the drawer a second time, but Stanley was already moving again as if suddenly reanimated, leaning across the desk to deliver a blow with the bat. Sendoh fumbled the small box of bullets as he tried to dodge Stanley's attack, and it hit the ground sending bullets rolling in all directions.

With the gun useless in his hand, Sendoh took an apprehensive step back, trying to give himself space to think.

_Now what?_ He'd been kidding himself that he'd be able to handle a gun in the first place. He felt Kaede looking at him from the other side of the room and tried not to consider what would happen if he failed here.

_He's a twenty three,_ Kaede had said. What was that supposed to mean, except that he was violent and dangerous? Stanley had moved around the desk, and Sendoh took another step back so that Norio's bookcase of classics was at his back. He gripped the gun tightly, wondering how effective it would be as a club.

_There must be some way to beat him. What are twenty-threes like?_

There was a simple answer to that. _Killers. Twenty threes are killers._

He shook his head slightly, trying to catch his breath as Stanley approached.

_Kaede and Jin aren't big guys. They're not brawlers like Mitsui and Maki. They kill quietly, more directly. But Stanley is muscular - more like a twenty-eight._

His eyes were still fixed on Stanley as he approached. _I can't let him near me or I'll be dead. But what can I do? I have no ideas right now except to fight him like this._

Sendoh dove sideways as Stanley suddenly came at him, the bat throwing up books and papers where it hit the bookshelf. Sendoh crashed into the oriental rosewood screen which toppled onto him. He shoved it aside, only to see the bat coming for him once again. He felt the impact on his shoulder even as he tried to throw himself out of the way.

Agony immediately exploded on his left side. His body rolled back upright, but his left arm stubbornly refused to move, hanging useless and rubbery at his side, sending shocks of pain at even the slightest motion.

Sendoh screwed up his watering eyes to see Stanley coming towards him once again.

_I can't fight him with strength. It's hopeless. I'm only wearing myself out. But nothing beats them. There's no trump card. What can beat a twenty-three… except… except…_

His eyes finally flashed towards Kaede who hadn't moved from his place on the floor, momentarily forgotten by them both. Kaede met his stare, and Sendoh felt his heart hiccup in his throat.

_I can feel him_, he realised. _He doesn't say or do anything, and yet somehow it feels like he's pulling my strings. Very quietly. Like he's been leading me from the very beginning. He picked me out. He chose me. Everything I ever did was because he wanted me to do it._

He looked down at the gun in his hand. _I don't know how to use this damn thing anyway_. Without warning he let the gun drop through his fingers, and clenched his hands into fists instead. It hit the ground with a sharp, metallic ring.

Sendoh sensed Stanley's confusion at his action, and anticipated the downward motion Stanley made towards the gun. Sendoh blocked him with a swift upper cut to the chin - which nearly blinded him as pain shot through his side - but somehow he managed to get his foot around the gun and kick it as far away as possible. Once again Stanley's instinct made him turn towards the gun's motion as if pulled by puppet strings, but Sendoh seized his hair in his right hand and managed to knee him ferociously in the face.

Wheezing, left hand trying to stem the blood flowing from his nose, Stanley tried to jab at Sendoh with the bat still in his right hand, but Sendoh had a sudden crystal vision of what he needed to do. He grabbed at the bat even as it came for him. A kick to Stanley's knee unbalanced the man for the second Sendoh needed to move in behind him, pulling the bat around so that Stanley was forced back awkwardly against Sendoh, the bat he held now across his body like a bar.

Immediately Stanley tried to kick viciously back at Sendoh's calves and knee caps, but Sendoh was still pulling him, unbalancing him, their feet slipping in Tsuki's blood, until they'd turned a hundred and eighty degrees on the spot. Then Sendoh sucked in his breath, strengthened his body, and prepared to hold him there as tightly as he could.

Lastly, he focused his eyes across the room once again and saw, just as Stanley saw, that they were now staring down the barrel of Norio's now-loaded gun.

"You-!" Stanley spluttered in fury.

Kaede's face remained blank.

"Me," he confirmed.

_Got him! _Sendoh thought triumphantly, feeling Stanley immediately strain against his hold. Felt him kick, begin to trash. His right arm lifting and swinging back ineffectively at Sendoh's side.

The gun shot sounded like an explosion in that small room, and in a split second Stanley had crumpled lifeless in Sendoh's arms.

Victory and adrenaline flooded Sendoh so euphorically that he didn't even notice that something was wrong. He didn't even feel it until he looked down and saw the blood that was rapidly soaking through his shirt. Curiously he put his hand to his side and was confused when it came away scarlet.

The knife Stanley had somehow pulled out of nowhere was lying on the floor not a foot away, its tip dark with Sendoh's blood.

Confused, Sendoh lifted his eyes to Rukawa as if in question, and then sank to the floor as his knees gave way beneath him.

Blood was pooling in his hands even as Rukawa kicked Stanley's body out of the way and tore strips from the hem of his shirt, pressing them against the wound.

Sendoh sagged woozily against Rukawa's chest.

_He stabbed me_, he thought to himself vaguely. _That bastard Stanley fucking stabbed me._

"What did you plan?" Rukawa demanded urgently as he tied off the strips. "Is there a way out?"

Sendoh nodded. " Dining hall," he mumbled.

Immediately Rukawa looped Sendoh's right arm around his neck and hauled him unsteadily to his feet. They both staggered a little.

_I'm leaning on a man who is even weaker than me_, Sendoh realised unhappily. But despite the frailty of Rukawa's thin shoulders, between the pain in his side and his broken collar bone, Sendoh didn't have the ability to argue. Besides, Rukawa's grip on him was like iron as he pulled him swiftly towards the door.

The world was spinning even before Sendoh had taken three steps down the administration corridor. The ringing of the fire alarms was making him feel quite sick. He couldn't help but lean more and more heavily on Rukawa who, despite the burden, neither stopped nor slowed.

It wasn't until they made it out to the central courtyard that they saw the smoke. The alarms in the cell block had faulted into silence, but the fire was clearly still blazing. Smoke billowed up into the sky like a plague, throwing ash and burning remnants into their eyes and faces. They both looked at the block in dismay. They was no way around - the block spanned the entire width of the compound, touching the block walls at either side. The holding doors behind them were far too complex for Sendoh to handle even if he hadn't been minutes away from passing out. The breached dining hall - the only other way out - was on the other side of the burning building.

Staring down the raging fire, even Rukawa hesitated.

They could stay where they were, and wait to be found by whatever authorities arrived first - the fire-crews, the prison staff from surrounding blocks, the police, perhaps even the army. But Sendoh's only thought was what they would do to Rukawa if they found him.

_If we stay here_, Sendoh realised, _we lose_.

He turned his face towards Rukawa to tell him as much, but Rukawa began to pull him towards the burning entranceway before he even opened his mouth to speak.

"We have to move," Rukawa told him shortly in the face of his surprise. "Or you'll be implicated in Tsuki's murder."

"Uh…" Sendoh tried to respond, but he felt drained and cold beyond belief. He couldn't even move his fingers. There was nothing he could do but lean against Rukawa and trust him to guide them as they stepped through the doors into the building. Inside, the smoke was thick and black and foul-tasting. Blood had already soaked through Sendoh's makeshift bandage and his consciousness was beginning to fade in and out. It was all he could do to try and keep himself balanced as Rukawa pulled him urgently along.

Sendoh had no awareness of the flames they occasionally passed down smouldering corridors. He didn't feel the heat, nor notice the feeble coughs that hacked reflexively from his own throat. There was only dimness, the jostling of their motion, and Kaede's body warm against his. When his ear pressed to Rukawa's shoulder or neck, he could hear the thud of his heart beating. The prison, the fire and the danger all ceased to be. He was nowhere. Nowhere with Kaede. And in his state of helplessness he felt a strange, blissful feeling of complete trust for the boy who was half carrying, half dragging him home. All he knew in those moments of foggy consciousness was that they'd make it somehow.

They occasionally passed lost, panic-stricken or unconscious inmates, but Rukawa never slowed or hesitated. Even in the dark and the smoke and after years of absence, he knew his way through the prison as surely as if he'd never left it. The cells and endless corridors were his home. The walls were to him like windows. And he didn't falter until they rounded a final corner where they finally stopped dead.

Flame - towering structures and columns, a entire city of fire. All around him Sendoh could see no colour but the muddied reds and smokey browns of this strange world. Wherever his hand touched the wall or floor, it came away black with ash. More of the deadly stuff swirled through the red air on unseen currants, billowing and breathing like a living dragon.

And the noise. It sounded like a true living thing, snorting and roaring and sucking at their air greedily. It seemed as if they were surrounded by a dozen enemies. However, there was only one.

He seemed half man, half demon. The black ash clung to him like a shadow. The red of the blood that dripped down his face was only another flicker of flame.

A terror, dressed in reds and oranges.

Sendoh looked around at the strange city he had found himself in, but there was no salvation. No bridge of flame to warrant an escape. No smoke-made cave they could hide within. The demon had spotted them - would hunt them now. The flaming city was no ally of theirs.

Another prison. Another vision of hell.

Sendoh slipped in Rukawa's grasp, and Rukawa gently lowered him to the ground, propping him up against the corridor wall.

Sendoh felt more awake by the moment, as Rukawa's comforting warmth left him feeling chilled and alone despite the heat of the fire. He clutched the wound in his side and groaned. Tears streamed from his smoke-irritated eyes but he squinted through the black smoke to stare at the demon who had found them.

He was a sight. Beaten was too weak a word for him. His face was barely recognisable with blood and bruises and ash. He clutched at his ribs as if they were shattered. In his right hand was a gun - which he grasped by the barrel and wielded like a hammer.

Sendoh's breath only came in short disbelieving gasps. Why here? Why now?

"Norio," Rukawa's voice was terrifying, but Norio's eyes were only on Sendoh behind him. Venom seemed to roll off him in waves.

"What have you done?" he hissed.

Sendoh tried to move, feeling as if something were expected of him. But each time the pain rose, his head would spin, the chasm motion to him, he would fall and it would all be gone into a well of numbness.

He realised he could do nothing but let Rukawa answer for him.

And all at once, he was afraid of what he might hear.

How much was Kaede's revenge worth? On the man who had paid such pain and such agony. Playing out his most sadistic whims for what? There had been no purpose in Kaede's pain. Those codes Norio had pretended to desire had been known to him all along. There had been nothing to gain but Norio's own twisted pleasure. But now there were no bars, no handcuffs. Just Kaede's eyes reflecting the fire, and four years to compensate for.

"Kaede…" Sendoh tried to gasp, but he could barely even breathe any more.

* * *

><p>Kaede breathed. In, and out. His eyes fluttered closed momentarily, then opened again.<p>

This place. Silence. Commotion. He couldn't tell any more. He could have been alone, or in a room of a hundred people. He wouldn't have known. Everything he had was focused on only one thing now.

The pain that had been his mournful accompaniment for so many years was strangely distant. Fleeting. And yet it was something in his bones that told him – this is it. There won't be any more after this. This is finished now.

The world clicked around him - the fire - the years - the hurt - everything perfectly contained in its sphere. He saw it all in that moment, and understood it, even in all its strangeness.

It seemed… almost peaceful.

It was the end. His body and his mind could be tested no further. He was tired. So tired of waiting. Of struggling.

He could feel nothing now, but if he concentrated he could remember how it had felt. The agony of Norio's attempts on him. Years of cat and mouse. How he had lain dark and alone in that cell. Discarded. Death creeping like longed-for sleep through his veins.

The cage of his own body - rotten thing weighing him down. Just mangled flesh gathering infection, the stench of the prison rubbed irremoveably into his skin. There would be no going back now.

He looked closely at his one great enemy. Saw the lines around his eyes and the blood matted in his hair. Was it strange that this man should be engraved so deeply onto the steel of his soul? They were linked with chains not even death would break. Even in death, Kaede would hunt him down eternally.

He was aware, most of all, of Sendoh behind him – felt him there, that warmth that had made him so hungry – like the rays of the far-away winter sun on his icicled cheeks. He didn't turn his head to see him, lest his resolve should shatter, but his heart swelled with emotion. Pride. For this one. This one he had found, recognised, put all the final scraps of his faith into. Sendoh Akira would survive. Kaede would make sure of that.

A long life. Perhaps a wife, kids. He'd leave this prison. There would be hundreds of tomorrows there for him. Plenty of years left in which to drink his fill of the sun. Of the horizon. Of possibilities.

Yes, one day, Sendoh Akira would leave this prison and all these rotten things far behind him.

Rukawa had only to cling to that thought and everything seemed so simple. Without regrets. Everything just as he wanted it.

Black ash covered his palm and he pressed it against what remained of the corridor wall and steadied himself on his feet. Overhead the ceiling was cracking, a cloud of dust raining down on them all. Tongues of fire burst through the cracks from the rooms behind, brightening the smoke to reds and oranges, like the flowers of summer.

Numb, suddenly serenely empty, he lifted his hand as if to pluck one. The flames roamed over the flesh of his hand, immediately assaulting and destroying his skin though he had no feeling, no awareness of the pain at all. He felt light. Lighter than he had in years. After a moment, his sleeve caught light too, and the fire began to travel steadily across his body.

Someone was screaming. But this was it. The final ultimatum. He tipped his centre of gravity forward and, as the fire engulfed him, demanded one last toll from his long-ruined body. _Run_.

A bullet hit his shoulder, but his forward momentum was too great. He slammed into Norio with everything that he had, setting the clothes of his enemy alight, setting him screaming with pain and terror, and clawing at him in a desperate bid to push him away as the flames came up around them and the tangle of their limbs. Still he pushed, forcing Norio back, further away from Sendoh, further away from safety, back into the yawning tomb of a prison. He grit his teeth and pushed, and he did not stop pushing until he was certain they were far enough away that there was no going back. Not for him. Not for Norio.

There was no pain. Only a strange satisfaction. _You were right_, he thought to himself. _This palace is yours. I'll leave it to you. Rule it. And I'll wait for you. Just on the other side… of the wall._

There was beauty in the flames. He might even have smiled.

* * *

><p>Sendoh felt heavy and helpless. The heat of the fire caused beads of sweat to stick out from his forehead, smearing his face with ash and soot. Whenever he tried to move, even the slightest motion set him coughing until he was sure he would pass out from the pain of his shoulder and side. Even lifting his arms was becoming a struggle. If he stayed here much longer, the smoke would take him.<p>

But he waited. And waited. Watching the corridor entrance where Kaede had disappeared. Waiting for him to return.

He couldn't see more than three feet around him, the smoke glowed orange and red, blinding and suffocating. His mind swam in and out of coherency. Soon even the walls and floor were slipping out of focus, his body slumping further and further down the wall. He listened for Kaede's voice, for the sound of him returning, but could hear nothing but a disembodied ringing in his ears. Everything seemed to be drifting to him through the fog of another universe.

But Kaede would come back for him. He only had to wait. He didn't doubt it, even for a second.

He didn't know how long he sat there. It might have been five minutes. It might have been a hour.

He'd slipped out of consciousness by the time there was sudden, human warmth by his side. Familiar jostling. Pain that now chimed like a throbbing echo and woke him from whatever brink he had found himself at.

He was moving, and a voice by his ear told him "not much further" and "not far now".

_Kaed_e, Sendoh breathed in relief.

Gingerly, he felt out with his hand, feeling the familiar cotton of a prison shirt under his fingers. His eyelids fluttered as they stumbled finally out into the dining hall, away from the smoke, free of the prison's grasp.

When he finally came to his senses, Sendoh was lying on his back in the scrubby grass just beyond the dining hall's damaged chain fence. Weak sunlight on his face seemed at such odds with the acrid smell of burning still in his nose. His shoulder felt strangely tight, and when he turned his head he saw that a makeshift splint was holding his broken collarbone steady. All around him were bodies. Smoke-stained and bedragled inmates, some resting on their backs, others coughing up their lungs or clutching burnt limbs and faces. A sorry aftermath. The pile of tables over by the block wall had partially collapsed, indicating that some at least had managed to make it over the wall to relative safety.

Sendoh blinked dazedly around him. His head still felt woozy, but he was better for being out of the smoke.

"You've lost a lot of blood," a voice nearby informed him. "I've patched you up, but don't move too much. Do you remember where you are?"

Sendoh groaned softly. Now that it came to it, his throat struggled to form words. "Fukushima," he managed to rasp. "T-block."

"Right. Do you remember me?"

Sendoh's eyes flickered over towards the sound of the voice and struggled to focus on the nearby face.

"Kogure," he said.

Kogure smiled down at him absently. His young face was dirty with ash and distress. He looked fragile and shocked, as if he hadn't slept in weeks. There was something decidedly wild about his eyes. Sendoh blinked at him.

"Where's Kaede?" he asked.

Kogure frowned. "Kaede?" he echoed blankly. "I don't know."

Suddenly seized with the compulsion to move, Sendoh tried to sit up, only to give up immediately as the world tipped and lurched around him, and the pain made his eyes water. Kogure's steady hand on his arm held him down.

Sendoh let his head fall to the side, looking towards the block. From nearby, somewhere beyond the wall, the sound of sirens was growing steadily closer.

"You must have seen him" Sendoh insisted. "He bought me here. He was helping me…" he trailed off and fixed his stare on Kogure in a sudden uncomfortable realisation.

Kogure swallowed unhappily. "Tell me what happened," he insisted.

"We were running there… there was…" Sendoh frowned, shaking his head as he tried to connect the events that were still strange and dream-like to himself. "…Norio was there and Kaede… he… he…"

Kogure was staring at him, but Sendoh found he couldn't say anything more. Tears seemed to well out of nowhere, and spill silently down his cheeks.

The fire was still raging. There was ash and burning fragments on the wind, dusting over everything like black snowflakes. It seemed a part of the East Wing roof had collapsed, adding crumbled cement to the rising smoke.

Yet Sendoh couldn't see it for the tears.

Kogure, seeing Sendoh quivering, reached out and placed a comforting hand on Sendoh's shoulder.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Sendoh whispered harshly, his voice cracking. "It was you who brought me here."

"Sendoh…" Kogure began, seemingly at a loss. He didn't know what else to say.

Sendoh only stared at him, wide-eyed. "Kaede… he's still inside," he gasped, once again trying and failing to sit up. "He's…"

Kogure held him back, his face serious.

"Rukawa saved your life," he said firmly, his voice heavy, and his meaning clear.

Sendoh frowned at him as if he didn't understand. He wiped with his hand at the tears that just wouldn't stop coming. "But I was meant to…" he stammered, his voice dropping away as the enormity of world seemed to drown him out. He took a breath. "But… _I _was meant to be the one… who saved _him_."

Looking into Sendoh's confused, unhappy face, words fell away from Kogure.

"I'm sorry," was all he could say. "I'm so, so sorry."

A gust of wind brought a wave of drifting debris in their direction, ash settling on every surface, coating Sendoh's hair and sticking to his tears. A thousand fragments of burning paper were tossed around in the wind like confetti.

* * *

><p>Time passed strangely after that. A white, hospital room. There was light, and whiteness, and the chill. Steel and plastic. Surgical. Cold.<p>

Occasionally his hands would flex, clutch tightly at the blanket as if somewhere, deep within his mind, he were facing a final mighty terror.

Sometimes his eyelids would flutter, as if wanted to return to this world. The next moment, however, they would fall still, as if he didn't after all.

The people who drifted in and out of the room made no impression on him. He was trapped in dreams. And though, over several weeks, they nursed his body until it was well, there was nothing they could do to fix black and boundless grief.

Even when his eyes were open and he looked straight at them, it was as if he wasn't there. He responded to their questions sometimes. Rarely he might even crack a smile. And yet there was something. It was hard to put a finger on it. But he was not there. There was no Sendoh Akira in the body that had once held him.

He was automated. Breathing, existing, responding, doing. But not alive. Not, in all the ways that mattered, alive.

His existence was reduced to forms, to careful visits to the bathroom, to the uncomfortable robes he wore, and the creases of linen in his bed. The steady sound of hospital machinery, the small cup of water and collection of pills. A plastic tie around his wrist that revealed his name. A lock on the door. A prison officer who stood outside it.

And the monotony of endless days. Laying in a hospital, waiting to be better, so that once he was better, he could wait in a prison to be free, and then perhaps once he was free, wait in a cold and lonely world to die.

Sendoh Akira had seen the darkness before, but never so absolute as in the days and months following the fire. The borders between sleep and wakefulness seemed to vanish. Between night and day. Life and death. He didn't know where he was.

He really didn't care.

He existed, and that was all. He found, frequently, that he could not recall what had passed in the days before, nor care what was to come in those that followed. If there were others around him during those eight months, he didn't know them, their faces, nor their names.

Block 308 had been still under construction at the time the fire had occurred. Initially ear-marked to replace the greatly dilapidated Block A, it was, out of necessity, reassigned to the now-dispersed members of T-Block.

By the time Sendoh was released from the hospital, the other inmates had been in situ in the new block for two months. It was, as far as prisons went, exemplary. The design was such that dark corners and secret places were almost impossible to come by. There were recreational rooms, with televisions, pool tables and study areas. The paint was fresh, the air still optimistic. The dining area had a clean cafeteria feel. But when Sendoh stepped inside, it felt exactly the same. The eyes that followed him. A few inmates muttered darkly together when they saw him and slipped quietly out of the room. No doubt they recognised him. Sendoh didn't care enough to react.

He sat himself at an empty table, and stared at the white plastic surface blankly.

There was movement around him. Inmates drifting back and forth, carrying trays of food or heading back to their cells. Occasionally someone would wander towards his table to sit down, but hesitate when they saw the look in his eyes. In the fifteen minutes he waited, no one sat in any of the nine other places around his table.

In the sixteenth minute, however, someone sat directly opposite him.

"Sendoh Akira?"

He didn't move. Didn't even lift his head. If it hadn't been for his height and unusual blue eyes, Kogure might not have recognised him at all.

"Hey," he repeated, "Sendoh?"

When there was still no response, Kogure pursed his lips.

"Here," he said. "I've got something for you."

He pulled a small book out from the waistband of his trousers and put it on the table beside Sendoh's folded arms. Sendoh didn't look at it.

"It came inside a parcel," Kogure explained. "Some contacts I've made on the outside sent it through. There was no note or anything, but I guess it was meant for you."

There was no indication that Sendoh had even heard. Kogure sighed heavily.

"If you want," he said, "there's a rec room we use up on the third floor. Nice spot. It's got a TV and everything. Come by when you're ready."

He got to his feet, waited hopefully for a moment longer, but finally turned away when Sendoh still did not lift his eyes.

It wasn't until the end of the lunch service that the book finally caught his eye, and even then it was only by accident. A large, unfriendly-looking inmate passing by saw it, and picked it up.

"What's this?" the man guffawed loudly. "Poems? Like reading poems, do you?"

Sendoh didn't move.

The man scowled. "Hey! Listen to me when I'm talking to you!" He grabbed Sendoh's arm and tried to force him to move.

Sendoh was upon him in an instant. All teeth and ferocity. Like a wild animal he flung himself upon the man, toppling him backwards with a crash and clawing furiously at his throat. There was a diabolical glint in his eye. He smelt of despair, madness and absolutely nothing to lose.

Astonished at the sudden, vicious attack, the man only just managed to throw Sendoh off and retreated hastily out of reach.

"Fucking crazy bastard," he scowled, rubbing at the marks around his throat. A few people had gathered around, and the perpetrator swiftly slipped away between them. Sendoh was left on his knees, the book laying a few feet away where it had been knocked in the sudden scrimmage.

Absent-mindedly, he reached for it.

_The collected poems of John Donne_.

He turned it over and over in his hands. Where had this come from? Why did he have it?

It fell open in his hands. A long line had been drawn in pencil, highlighting one of the lines.

_Be thine own palace_

_Or all the world's thy jail._

He stared at it for a long time.

Very slowly, something huge and terrifying seemed to uncurl and rise up in his chest.

"Kaede…?" he asked the book, as if it would answer him. It lay quietly in his hands, just repeating the same words over and over in his mind as his eyes flashed forward and back across the page.

_How can it be? Is it possible?_

Suddenly animated, he climbed to his feet and looked around as if the answers would be there. All that stared back at him were the foolish, moronic faces of the rest of the cattle.

He clutched the book to his chest. It was as if all the fog were lifted at once. Something in his dulled eyes cleared.

"Kogure…" he recalled, turning left and right, trying to work out which way that boy had gone. "Rec room. Third floor."

He turned to run. He felt his heart begin to beat in one final burning flash of hope.

Saw, in that moment, the roads that would lead him home.

_The past wiped away. Old chains broken. My prison. My palace. My turn._

_To decide, to rule, to create the ending. _

_And if you're out there… _

He gripped the cover tightly. Just paper and pages in between his hands, but words written onto his soul.

_If you're out there, Kaede…_

_...I'll find you._

* * *

><p>ANs: In a cruel world, I'd end it here.<p>

Luckily...

IOU one epilogue! Sincerely, Muses.

I've actually been doing a lot of writing in the last few months (just totally failing to actually finish any of it...) Epilogue is mostly written already :) Hopefully it won't take me too long to get it to you.

For your information, I actually wrote Kaede's final scene about eighteen months ago while listening to Britney Spears' Everytime, so you can blame her for it hahaha. Goddamnit that song is sad. (I'll post the full song list next time, or you can listen through it all on youtube, just search for Thine Own Palace Playlist)

I guess I should go and take shelter from the barrage of furious and angry reviews now... so... bye! *runs*


	26. Post Script

**Thine ****Own ****Palace**

**Post ****Script**

The interview room was not quite what she had expected. For one thing, the chairs were softly padded and comfortable. For another, the table was wooden instead of metal, and there were no suspicious-looking mirrors. In short, it was entirely unlike how films and television dramas had painted her expectations.

She sat. The police inspector sat opposite her.

He looked tired, she noticed. He was also carrying a large number of papers and files.

She waited as he switched on the recorder that sat innocuously at the side of the table.

"Nurse Akagi," he began. "If you could just tell me briefly what your position is at the hospital...?"

She spared the recorder a glance. "I'm a ward nurse. I've been working there for four years. My job is to do everything the doctors don't have the time to."

"Can you tell me what happened on the 15th of this month?"

Akagi Haruko paused. "There was a fire at Fukushima Prison. It's about thirty minutes away. I saw it on the news, and before I knew it, admin called and asked if I could come into work. It was my day off, you see."

"And you went in?"

"Of course."

"And what was the situation, as far as you could see?"

Akagi Haruko shrugged. "Chaos. There were about fifty inmates who needed attention, and a barrage of prison guards and police officers who apparently needed to accompany them."

"What sort of condition were the inmates in?"

"Oh, there was all sorts. Some were just a little shaken up, some shock, a few with minor smoke inhalation. But there were some who were in a very bad way. Some severe burn victims, some weren't breathing. Some were already dead."

The police inspector nodded. "I see. Can you describe the condition of the man who escaped? The so-called _p__atient__ two_?"

Akagi Haruko nodded. "He was among the worst. He came in late. I was told they had pulled him out of the building. His right side was severely burnt, from his foot to his neck... but also..."

The police inspector nodded encouragingly as the young nurse hesitated.

"He'd been shot. There were two bullets in his right shoulder. Fresh."

A quick shuffle of papers. "Anything else?"

Akagi Haruko frowned. "Well... he was extremely emaciated. Starving. Like he hadn't eaten properly in weeks. Maybe months."

"Well, that's certainly-" the police inspector began.

"-_and_," Haruko continued quickly, before he could interrupt her, "there were these... marks on him."

He blinked. "What kind of marks?"

"Scars," she clarified. "Wounds. Burns."

"Where?"

She met his eyes and dropped her voice. "_Everywhere_."

The police inspector frowned deeply. "The doctor's report made no mention of any such marks."

Akagi Haruko spread her hands appealingly. "You don't understand what it's been like. Some of the doctors didn't go home for days. Dr. Ura is a highly capable man, but he doesn't wash the patients, or always have time to look too closely."

The police inspector shuffled through his papers again, reading swiftly through a page of report before appearing to find he was looking for, and glancing back up at her.

"It says here that you are the one who found the possible tattoo on his back," he stated.

Haruko shifted her weight a little. "Of course."

The inspector nodded, and put the sheet away again.

"Is it your opinion that those additional injuries were sustained in the fire?"

Haruko shook her head determinedly. "Some were old – well healed. Others were healing. They weren't from the fire."

"Then what do you think could have caused such marks?"

Akagi Haruko's eyes darkened a little. "Torture," she supplied.

The inspector sighed. "You can't think of any other explanation?"

"None."

He took a breath and let it out, staring blankly down at the papers as he tried to gather his thoughts. After a moment or two, he continued.

"Can you please tell me about your interactions with the patient."

"He was unconscious for three days. We put him in an individual unit for intensive care. There were two guards outside his door every day. But then again there were guards everywhere, what with all the prisoners. Once he woke up and the doctor saw him, it was my job to change his dressings and give medication every three hours."

"And did he happen to mention his name, or any other suggestion of his identity to you?"

Akagi Haruko shook his head. "He didn't speak. I wasn't sure he could, at first. It was four days before he actually said something to me."

"And what did he say?"

"He asked me about the prison fire. He wanted to know how many had died."

"And how did he seem when he asked the question? Was he saddened? Gleeful? Distressed?"

Akagi Haruko shrugged. "I don't know. He didn't seem anything. He never showed any emotion at all."

"And you answered his question."

"Well... sort of. I told him what they'd been saying on the news. Fifteen dead. Thirteen inmates, one member of staff, and that man from the government. I didn't mention the sixteenth."

"Then what happened?"

"He wanted to know their names."

"Their names?"

"Yes. The names of the dead inmates."

The inspector had leaned forward eagerly. _So his presence wasn't just chance. There _is _a connection somewhere. But the question is whether he was checking whether someone in particular had died, or whether someone had survived._

Aloud, he continued, "So you told him the names."

"Like I said, I told him about the fifteen who were on the news. They published a list of names, you know. He would have heard sooner or later."

"Why didn't you tell him about the sixteenth body?"

Akagi Haruko hesitated. "I didn't think I was allowed to. The hospital never mentioned it in any of the official statements."

The police inspector folded his hands together on the table. "Do you know why the sixteenth body hasn't been announced?"

"I heard – I heard it's because it hasn't been identified."

"Oh, we've identified it."

Akagi Haruko tilted her head. "Well, that's good. But what does that have to do with-"

"Did you at any point __see__the sixteenth body?" he interrupted her.

Haruko shook her head. The police inspector's voice seemed lower, more accusatory. She felt suddenly uncomfortable, although she didn't know why.

Calmly, the police inspector removed a photo from one of his files and passed it over to her. She looked down at it curiously.

The photograph featured the side of the corpse's neck. Marked there in ink was the number twenty three.

"Is this the same tattoo as you found on _p__atient__ t__wo_'s back?"

Haruko looked at the police inspector uncertainly. "Well... it could be. It's hard to be sure."

He frowned and indicated the photograph. "This man wasn't a prisoner." He began to explain. "He was a fugitive. He'd actually broken out of Fukushima four years ago. And yet, for some reason, on the day of the fire, he was there."

"He was killed in the fire?"

"No," the police inspector leaned forwards. "That's the interesting thing. This man was shot. He was found near the body of Minister Tsuki. The fire never reached that part of the building." He waved a hand. "So we have two men, both with a tattoo, both shot, both inside a prison that they should not have been inside, on a day it just happened to burn down and a government minister was murdered. The only difference between them is that one is dead, and one is alive. I hope you can see why we are keen to find this missing man, Nurse Akagi."

Akagi Haruko looked distinctly nervous. The police inspector stared at her expectantly.

"After you told him about the deaths," he prompted, "what else did he do or say?"

"No-nothing," she stammered, "for a few days. Then... then he asked me..." she hesitated, "...for a phone call."

"A phone call?" the police inspector repeated gratingly, his words cool and mocking.

Akagi Haruko nodded mutely. Her eyes were on her hands.

"And what on __earth __possessed you to allow this?"

She thought about it for a moment, and then looked up at him. There were fearful tears welling in her eyes. "It was his right. It's everyone's right. Even when you're arrested, you get a phone call."

The policeman rolled his eyes. "But he wasn't arrested. He was a prisoner, a convict under guard. Just because he was in hospital, instead of the prison block, doesn't mean he's suddenly entitled to various things."

"But he __wasn't __a prisoner!" Haruko exclaimed. "You just said so yourself! He wasn't meant to be in the prison at all."

"But you couldn't have known that!" he snapped, his voice angry and cold, causing Haruko to lean back in nervousness. He saw her look, and attempted to soften his expression. He took a long breath. After a moment he motioned for her to speak.

"I heard..." she explained, her voice a little weaker. "...I heard the guards talking about it."

"What exactly did you hear?" he demanded, his voice tense, staining against patience. He obviously hadn't had enough sleep.

"That all the prisoners had been accounted for, and they still didn't know who he was. That he wasn't on the records."

"You are aware, no doubt, that this was a mere rumour?"

"__They __seemed to believe it," Haruko replied. "And it turned out to be true."

"So you got it into your head that this man wasn't a prisoner. That he was being... falsely held, or something?"

Haruko fidgeted. "Well, I thought that perhaps he was an unregistered worker."

"An unregistered worker," the police inspector repeated weakly.

"Yes. An illegal worker. Someone's nephew or brother or something, just helping out with the cleaning or maintenance in the prison. Cash in hand, sort of thing. And then, what with the fire, he'd just been... well... __mistaken __as one of the prisoners, and was being held here at the hospital unfairly."

The police inspector stared at her. "And this is what you came to believe," he queried blankly.

Haruko frowned and nodded shortly.

"And so you gave him your own personal cell phone, and allowed him to make... a call."

Another nod.

"Did you hear what was said?"

"Well... I didn't understand it. First he said something foreign, and then he told them some numbers, I think it was a phone number. Then he said he was at the hospital, and gave the ward name and room number."

"That was all?"

"That was all."

"He didn't say a person's name in greeting, or even say goodbye, or see you later, when he hung up?"

Haruko frowned as she thought for a moment. "He... didn't..." she admitted uncertainly.

"And you didn't think that was strange?"

"Well," she tried to reason, at a little bit of a loss, "he wasn't the kind of person who spoke much. I didn't think it was unusual, given his character."

"Did you take a note of the number that he called?"

Haruko shook her head. "I only noticed it was a local number. I don't remember the digits."

"And where is your cell phone now?"

"I... I lost it. Yesterday."

The police inspector stared at her incredulously. "You __lost ___it_?"

"Yes. When I got to work yesterday morning, it wasn't in my bag. It must have dropped out somewhere between the hospital and the train station. I went back to look for it, but I couldn't find it."

"Could it have been stolen?"

Haruko pursed her lips together. "Well... maybe. I don't know."

The police inspector put his fingers to his temples and rubbed in soothing circular motions.

"Let me get this straight. On Wednesday afternoon you allowed this man to use your cell phone to make a phone call. That Wednesday night, he disappears from the hospital without a trace. The following Thursday morning your cell phone strangely goes missing on your way in to work. And now, on Friday, you have no way of telling me what number he called."

Haruko nodded her head silently. The police inspector sighed heavily.

"Doubtless we will have further questions for you, Nurse Akagi. I highly recommend that you cancel your weekend plans."

He reached over to switch off the recorder, but hesitated at the last moment, and withdrew his hand.

"Just... one last question."

"Yes?"

"I understand that your brother was also incarcerated at Fukushima. Is he all right?"

Catching the ripple of accusation in his voice, Akagi Haruko narrowed her eyes slightly. "He'll pull through."

The police inspector nodded and smiled in a way that left her feeling quite sick. "Convenient, that, isn't it?"

"What are you trying to say?" she tried to sound assertive, but her voice was little more than a waver.

"What I mean is that I'll be seeing you again soon, Haruko Akagi. You can count on that."

She left the station with the hairs on her neck still bristling.

* * *

><p>(next stop - epilogue!)<p> 


	27. Epilogue

**Angelchoo**: Ack – please don't flame me D: I said once before (ages ago) that I didn't like sad endings for long fics due to the reader investment. I'd be monumentally peeved off to read so many thousands of words only to be disappointed in the end! Well. I have been known to change my mind...? (Guess you'll have to read it and see!)

**Loveless Raine**: Fanart would be awesome! Do send me a link if you get on to it :D Thanks for your review! This fic was my attempt at making Sendoh more awesome than Kaede, but I guess sometimes I just can't help myself D: (← Rukawa girl!) I've been enjoying Kuroko no Basket too, though some scenes are loads of fun (Aomine!) I still spend almost every episode either cringing or laughing at the ridiculousness of the continual "power ups" xD "OMG HE'S IN THE ZONE! HE'S NOW 20% BETTER THAN BEFORE!" orly?

**Addicted to SD**: Hi hi, thanks for sticking around despite my super-slow update speed! You're such a reliable reviewer hahah xD Thanks so much! I hope there's a somewhat-happy ending too~!

**Anita**: I'm glad I didn't drive you to concerned emails this time, although I did take forever to get this done (again!) I'm trying really hard to make Sendoh awesome D: I'm afraid I may have brushed over his awesomeness a little too much I really must do a better job for you D:

**mrsklemzak: **Oooh thanks for the tumblr promotion! I don't use many social media sites so it's nice someone else has got my back hahaha. Yup, I can totally see the SendohxSakuragi andRukawaxSakuragi setups. I might try my hand at it sometime :P Uh huh, Sakuragi sort of vanished in the last chapter. Hopefully the epilogue will reveal more? Maybe? Shifty look.

**Hitomi65**: uhm - thanks!

**Svaneaalka**: I'm sorry the the last chapter was such a cliff-hanger! Wonder no more! :D Thanks for your review~!

* * *

><p><strong>Thine <strong>**Own ****Palace**

**Epilogue**

The doors slammed shut behind Hikoichi Aida, echoing loudly down the corridor. He shifted his feet a little, and looked around blankly. The prison officer had barrelled him so rapidly down the corridor that he was feeling rather dazed.

Lifting his eyes, he took in his first sight of a prison cell.

It was a four-man room, mostly filled by the two beds standing one on each side of the cell, each with an upper and a lower bunk. The walls were marred by scuffs and marks, and posters of undressed women were tacked haphazardly about. The single high window was barred, letting in only a minimal stream of sun. Overall it felt cramped and untidy.

Aida turned his gaze upwards.

The top two bunks were occupied by two men. They sat with their feet dangling over the edge, staring down at him. There was really nothing friendly about them.

"Look at this, Skint," the man on the right sneered. "Look."

The second man, the one called Skint, was a thin man with narrow eyes and a calculating stare. "Looks like a little runt to me," he said gravely. "A little girl come to join us."

Aida squinted up at them. They seemed very high above him, sitting on the top of the bunks. He tried to swallow his nerves.

"Er- hello." He began awkwardly, his voice thin and unsteady. "I'm Aida Hiko..."

"Where you from, bitch?" Skint interrupted him, slipping down from the bunk and stepping straight into Aida's personal space.

Aida's eyes widened and he took an impulsive step back from Skint's radiating animosity.

"Ry-Ry-onan," he stammered in reply.

"Ry-Ry-onan?" the other man repeated mockingly from the top of his bunk. "Never heard of that place. _Ry-Ry-onan_." He laughed.

Aida's eyes moved between the two of them nervously. Their unfriendly scrutiny did not relent. He began to feel as if something cold was hurting his stomach. Skint reached out a hand and with a casual knock shoved him towards one of the lower bunks. "That's your space," he asserted impatiently. "Put down your shit."

Aida hesitated just a moment, before moving where he was directed, clutching his bag in both hands. He had to squeeze past Skint in the narrow space, and when he approached the lower bunk, the other inmate took the opportunity to prod at him with the toe of his boot.

"Think he's turned already?" he asked, leering down at Aida.

"Of course not, Webb," Skint gave a long, stretching smile. "It's his first time in."

Webb returned Skint's grin inanely. "I never got to turn no one before. Can I do it?"

"Not yet. We'd better show him to Michimori and the rest."

Webb looked disappointed and silence fell.

Aida took as long as he possibly could, pulling things out of his bag, setting them down, rearranging them. The two men did nothing but watch him, two pairs of eyes boring into his back. In the small space the silence was so heavy his ears turned hot and he could feel a trickle of sweat moving down the back of his neck.

He didn't know what they wanted, what would happen, who Michimori was, what Webb had meant by _turned_, or how on earth they knew it was his first time in prison.

He didn't have time to ponder these mysteries either. He was just spreading out his blanket when a hand finally clapped on his shoulder and spun him around. He gasped in surprise, and found himself nose to nose with Skint.

"Taking your sweet time," Skint observed coldly. He reached with his free hand to fiddle with his clothes. Aida dropped his eyes, only to see that the man was undoing the front of his pants.

Everything he had thought he knew turned impossibly distant in that moment. He was struck with a profound confusion. A sort of slow-moving stupidity that left him completely stumped as to why Skint was undressing.

"We can't turn you yet," Skint explained through gritted teeth as he freed himself from the confines of his clothes, gripping his own dick tightly in his fist, "but a little bitch like you should be good for some head."

Aida could only stare as revulsion crept slowly up on him. He had never been this close to another man's erection in his life. A little realisation gleaned, and he tried to squirm away but he was far too late. Skint's hand leapt from his shoulder to his hair, clutching at the strains in a painful vice.

"Get on your knees," he hissed.

Behind and above him, Aida could sense the excited glee practically rolling from Webb.

"Get- get off me!" Aida tried to shove Skint away, but the man was stronger than he looked. The next thing he felt was Webb's feet on each of his shoulders, adding his considerable weight in the effort to force Aida to the floor. The sound of his dimwitted sniggering rang in Aida's ears.

Aida screwed his eyes closed tight in disbelief. It didn't seem real. Was this really happening to him?

It was at that moment that the intercom speaker in the corner of their cell buzzed into life.

"_Cell__block __308 __section __C __lunch __service __is __now __available._" A pleasant female voice informed them. "_All __inmates __in __section __C __must __proceed __to __the __cafeteria. __Be __reminded __that __any __absence __for __assigned __lunch __service __will __be __treated __as __a __breech __of __protocol. __You __should __now __leave __your __cell._"

As if in response to the message, the mechanical locks on the cell door released with a clang, and the door swung open. Out in the corridor, the message could be heard repeating in the same bright tone.

"Fucking hell," Skint swore, releasing his grip on Aida's hair and moving to close his fly. "Motherfuckers."

"What do you want to do?" Webb queried, slipping down from his bunk to join them on the floor.

Skint sighed in irritation. "Doesn't matter," he replied. "It can wait. Anyway, I'm fucking starving." He turned his eyes to Aida, "Come on then, move!"

Skint kept his hand knotted in the back of Aida's shirt for the entire time it took them to walk to the cafeteria. Aida, for his part, didn't have enough wits about him to try to get away. He was still shaken to his core, thoughts utterly scattered. Besides, where could he possibly go?

The cafeteria was already getting busy by the time they arrived. A queue was forming against one wall, occasional isolated scuffles breaking out. The communal tables were filling up, and everywhere Aida looked he saw men just like the ones he was with. Sour, hard-faced criminals. A world he didn't belong in.

He was propelled over to a table already occupied by a few others, and was made to sit with Skint and Webb on either side of him.

Aida's eyes moved left and right, but he couldn't see salvation anywhere. There wasn't a friendly face in the room. Even the guards patrolling the walls seemed unpleasant and cruel. What was he meant to do?

Gradually the table filled as the rest of the inmates filed into the cafeteria. They greeted Skint and Webb whilst ignoring Aida as if he wasn't there at all. All the while, Skint kept a firm grip on his arm, and would not let him go.

It wasn't until the table was nearly full that someone spoke up.

"Who's the bitch?"

Aida looked over at the man who sat at the centre of the table. He was huge, with arms that bulged from his sleeves, and a neck as thick around as his head. From the sudden, quiet attention of the others, Aida guessed this was Michimori.

"New cellmate," Skint explained, dropping his voice a little bit, leaning forward. "And I mean __new__."

"First timer?" Michimori asked, and grinned in the most unpleasant way. Aida shifted in his seat. "Name?"

Realising that the question was directed to him, Aida licked his dry lips and answered in a wavering voice. "Aida. Aida Hikoichi."

"Hikoichi-chan," the man sent mockingly back. "Well, Hikoichi-chan, you will call me _oniisan_."

Aida looked at him blankly.

"Say it now," Michimori told him. "Say 'yes, oniisan.'"

Spurred out of his terror by the indignity, Aida gave him a look of disgust, but Michimori met his look with serious eyes. He wasn't joking.

"I... I won't," Aida's voice quavered.

The man's expression turned to amusement. "Are you saying no to me, Hikoichi-chan?"

Aida scrunched his lips together in a defiant expression. All of the men around him were watching the exchange silently. Their attention fuelled his pride. He couldn't be humiliated like this. He wouldn't.

"Skint," Michimori said with a flick of his eyes.

The next moment, Skint had moved. Aida was knocked backwards from his chair, falling to the ground with a cry. Immediately a heavy foot put pressure on his throat. He winced and tried to push away Skint's ankle, but he couldn't shift it. Instead, the foot only pushed down more firmly.

"Say it," Michimori's voice snarled from somewhere above him.

Aida writhed, trying to kick out with his feet, but they tangled in the legs of chairs. His eyes began to feel as if they were too big for their sockets as the pressure on his throat continued to increase. He gasped like a grounded fish.

"Say 'please let me suck your dick oniisan'," the voice above him demanded, and the vague sound of chuckling amusement came from the others.

His eyes watering, Aida managed to gasp, "oniisan". The pressure did not decrease.

"What was that?"

"Oniisan," he wheezed again.

"I can't hear you."

"Oniisan."

"Please let me...?"

Aida squirmed, and could not help the tears that spilt down his cheeks full of fear and humiliation. "Please... let me suck your dick... oniisan."

The foot was removed, and Aida rolled onto his side coughing and clutching his bruised neck. Laughter came up from the gang. A glass of water was upended over Aida's head, to more amused approval. Aida curled himself into a ball and tried to hide his face, laughter ringing in his ears.

They were still laughing when Skint's familiar voice sounded close to his ear, telling him to get up.

Aida didn't move from where he lay. A rough hand shook him by the shoulder. "You'll do what I say if you don't things to get ugly, do you understand me?"

Aida whimpered slightly and began to climb back to his feet. Every face at the table was looking at him in cruel mockery.

Aida was forced back into his seat between Skint and Webb, his eyes on his hands, and drips of water still falling from the strands of his hair. He felt sick.

"So – we're gonna keep him?" someone asked.

Michimori gave a nod.

"Is that – is that going to be okay?"

Michimori scoffed and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "I'm not afraid of Sendoh fucking Akira," he announced loudly. "If that bastard's got a fucking problem, he knows where to fucking find me."

There was an uncomfortable hush following this declaration. Not just from their table, but from those on either side as well. Aida noticed the way a few heads turned to glance in Michimori's direction.

Someone cleared their throat.

"Well _s__omebody_ needs to teach that punk a lesson," Skint finally spoke up in agreement, though he sounded less assured than before. "Always acting like he owns the place."

A few heads nodded in agreement. When nothing bad seemed to happen, more gang mates began to speak, spurred on by each other.

"Yeah. Acting like he's so big," someone put in. "You could take him, Michimori. Easy."

"Next time I see him I'm gonna pay him back for Kinimoto's eye."

"I bet it's not even true. All that stuff people say about him. It's all bullshit."

"Yeah. All that shit about T-Block too. Bullshit."

Aida risked a a glance from beneath his sopping fringe. The faces around him were animated and eager, revisiting tired scraps of prison gossip. Aida could only be grateful that, for a short moment at least, their attention was directed away from him.

"What about that bitch? You know – the one he choked with his dick?"

"I remember that. The kid died in hospital."

"Don't be fucking stupid. You can't choke someone with a fucking dick."

"You wanna fucking bet?"

"Hey you remember when Sendoh Akira killed his cellmate back in T-block?"

"_Yeah_. And when they came to recover the body – he'd __eaten__ it."

"Someone's gotta teach that bastard a lesson," someone repeated adamantly. "Michimori, let's do something about that fucking dick."

"Talking about Sendoh Akira?" a new voice asked.

Aida saw their expressions freeze.

All eyes turned upon the newcomer who cracked a slow smile and slid himself casually into the empty seat opposite Aida. A golden tooth glittered under his lip. An old scar across his eyebrow wrinkled with his grin. But most striking of all was his hair – a furious shade of red. He met Aida's eyes.

"You know, some nights you can hear him howling to the moon," the man continued cheerfully, leaning forward as if telling a secret. "_AowwoooooooooOOooooo~_" he mimicked softly, and then smirked.

The silence was deafening.

"Sa-Sakuragi-" Skint spluttered in astonishment. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

Sakuragi leaned back again and spread his hands with a relaxed shrug and a knowing smile.

"Aren't- aren't you in section F?" Skint continued, babbling a little nervously. "This lunch session is for section C."

"Don't be stupid," Sakuragi replied in amusement. "You don't think those rules apply to __me__, do you?"

Michimori, apparently stunned into silence, said nothing. Sakuragi ignored him and kept his eyes fixed on Aida, who couldn't help but lean nervously back, away from his stare. There was definitely something frightening about Sakuragi. Something unsettling. Perhaps it was the way his smiling lips did not seem to match his snarling eyes.

"And you are?" Sakuragi prompted.

Aida hesitated. The men around him exchanged furtive glances, but no one spoke.

"I'm- I'm Aida Hikoichi," he said finally, his voice weaker than ever.

Sakuragi's eyes moved over Aida appraisingly. "First time in?"

Aida nodded dumbly, vaguely wondering how everyone seemed to know this.

"What are you in for then?"

For a moment, Aida could not find his voice. He was acutely aware of those around him. The expressions they bore. The men who just moments ago had seemed so terrifying and aggressive had been reduced to silence.

He couldn't afford any delusions. What sort of monster must this Sakuragi person be?

Aida forced himself to swallow, and then speak.

"Just... uh... some computer stuff."

"_Computer__stuff_," Sakuragi echoed, still staring at him. "Like did you steal some? Break some? Hack some?"

"Uh – yeah, I, erm, hacking. Mainly."

Sakuragi's stare was unrelenting. Aida realised his hands were quivering. He dropped his eyes to the table top.

After what seemed an age, he heard Sakuragi get up from his chair, and nervously risked a glance. The man was stretching and yawning widely, his arms nearly reaching the ceiling.

Then he cracked open an eye and with a somewhat mischievous grin said, "come with me."

Aida caught his breath. Skint's hand, still gripping his arm, grew tighter. The others all glanced uncertainly towards Michimori. As little as he understood about the situation, even Aida could tell that this was a clear challenge.

Michimori was forced to speak, spurned into action.

"Now wait a moment," he protested from his seat. "_We're_ looking after him. He wants to join our gang"

"Is that right?" Sakuragi's voice dropped a couple of tones. His jovial manner instantly evaporated, and the look in his eyes turned Aida's stomach weak.

Michimori tried to rally himself. "Listen Sakuragi, it's none of your business. You don't need him."

"It isn't a case of _need_. I want him. I take him. That's all there is to it."

Michimori finally rose from his seat. He was truly a monster of a man, probably close to seven foot and broad to match. Aida could not help notice the way his biceps twitched in his huge arms. Sakuragi was a big guy, but Michimori was a different league entirely. It didn't seem like much of a fair fight. But Sakuragi didn't flinch.

"Is he worth it?" Sakuragi asked, raising one brow. "I know you've been talking to Kogure. I would hate for there to be any problems. A little gift like this could really speed things up for you."

Michimori hesitated.

"Besides," Sakuragi continued, waving a hand. "You wouldn't want Sendoh to hear how you've been talking about him. You know what he's like when he's mad. That – what did you call him – _fucking_ __dick___?_"

Michimori's expression changed. Slowly he sat down.

"I don't want to delay things," he asserted finally. "You'll tell Kogure, won't you? That he's a- a gift. From us."

"I'll let him know," Sakuragi replied shortly, although he didn't relax his stance. His eyes moved back to Aida and he tossed his head towards the exit. "Come on."

* * *

><p>"Who is Sendoh Akira?"<p>

They were strolling down a corridor. Sakuragi was walking casually with his hands in his pockets, but Aida was still forced to hurry to keep up with his long strides.

"Who is Sendoh Akira?" Sakuragi echoed thoughtfully. "Now that's a question."

Aida waited, but Sakuragi didn't say anything more. They rounded a corner and continued on.

"He's... in your gang?" Aida prompted carefully.

"That's right."

"Did he really eat his cellmate?"

Sakuragi let out a laugh. It was round and clear and echoed loudly down the corridor. But he didn't answer the question.

Aida frowned and fidgeted. "Is he stronger than you?"

"Sendoh's stronger than everybody," Sakuragi replied dismissively, although Aida couldn't help but think he didn't quite mean it. There was that same hint of amusement in his voice.

"Will I... meet him?"

Sakuragi stopped short so that Aida nearly bumped into his back.

"Listen," Sakuragi said without turning round. "I'm only going to tell you this once, so pay attention. This is _prison,_ not fucking Disneyland. Stop acting like a frightened little rabbit and get your fucking shit together."

Aida blinked at him blankly. Sakuragi sighed in irritation and ran a hand through his hair.

"Look. Our gang, we need people with... certain skills. But not even Kogure is going to take on a suck-face little bitch like you if you go in there looking like you're going to shit yourself any moment. Have some __guts__. Or at least fucking _pretend _to."

Aida hesitated. Then he asked, "Who's Kogure?"

Sakuragi turned and frowned at him for a moment, wondering if anything he'd just said had sunk in at all. Then he shrugged, and continued walking. Aida hurried to keep up.

"Kogure's the boss," he explained.

Aida looked sideways at him. "But I thought Sendoh was the boss?"

Sakuragi rolled his eyes slightly. "Kogure's the boss. Do you always question everything you hear?"

Aida bowed his head a little. "Mum says it's a bad habit of mine."

"Fucking hell," Sakuragi muttered under his breath.

They took a final turn to the right, and came face to face with a closed wooden door. A sign on it read 'SECTION F REC ROOM'. Sakuragi rapped smartly on the wood.

Almost immediately the door swung open and an irritated-looking inmate appeared in the door frame, glaring at the two of them.

"That was quick," he observed suspiciously. "What did you fuck up this time?"

"Watch your fucking mouth Koshino," Sakuragi retorted and pushed past him into the room, Aida trailing behind.

The rec room was a large and comfortable space. A TV set on one wall was surrounded by three shabby-looking sofas. A well-worn ping-pong table took up half of the floor. An odd assortment of chairs and stools were scattered untidily about. There was even a small kitchen complete with sink, microwave, kettle and fridge. The furthest wall had a couple of barred windows under which a long communal table with wooden chairs was situated.

The room was populated by about eight inmates who were mostly hanging around idly, conversing or picking their teeth. They briefly glanced up as Sakuragi and Aida entered, but quickly returned to their own conversations. The whole scene was surprisingly normal, worlds away from the hostility and tension in the dining hall.

Aida looked at each inmate in turn. Somewhere in this room was the infamous Sendoh Akira. He noticed a few distinct possibilities – that handsome, dark-haired man lounging on one of the sofas – or that thick-set man who was apparently engrossed in carving his name into the wall with what looked like a hunting knife – but he couldn't be sure. Despite the situation, he felt a little safer with Sakuragi beside him. When it came down to it, Aida's insatiable curiosity would always override his fear. And to him, at the moment, the dangerous and violent figure of Sendoh Akira seemed the most curious thing of all.

Unfortunately Sakuragi didn't introduce anyone, steering him straight across the room towards the long table. On the opposite side a single, tired-looking man poured over papers spread across the table surface.

"Yo, Kogure," Sakuragi greeted him, "Someone interesting for you."

Kogure held up one finger as if asking Sakuragi to wait as he finished reading the paper in his other hand. Aida heard Sakuragi huff impatiently beside him, but he did nothing more. Then, Kogure set the paper down, and looked up at the two of them expectantly.

Aida stared at him in surprise.

"You're... Kogure?" he blurted.

He took in the sight of the man before him. Glasses, a slender build, and no taller than Aida himself. There was the impatience of a busy man in his face, but other than that, he didn't seem intimidating in the least.

Kogure tilted his head. "That's right. Is there a problem?"

Aida blinked rapidly. "No! Not at all." He shook his head emphatically. "I'm just surprised – you know - because you're... well... just kinda short, I guess."

Kogure's face turned stony and he glared at Aida over the top of his glasses. He did not look amused.

Someone behind them began to snigger and Sakuragi let out a soft groan of disbelief. Aida felt his ears turn pink.

"Where do you _find_ these people, Hanamichi?" someone asked in an amused voice. Aida turned to see the man who had been sitting on the sofa wind his way over to join them. He came close to Kogure and rested a hand on the back of his chair. His right forearm, Aida now saw, was black with tattoos from wrist to elbow. He had a rugged, handsome face, a thin scar on his chin, and a relaxed, confident air. When he looked at Aida, however, his gaze held a certain coldness, as if there was something dark, just below his surface.

_Is__this...__Sendoh__Akira?_

"You walk up to the leader of this prison's most notorious gang and tell him that he's too short? I can't tell if you're badass, or just fucking dumb."

"I- I didn't-" Aida began to stammer, flushing a furious red, "I didn't mean-"

Kogure held up one hand, and Aida plunged into silence.

"What's your name?" Kogure asked coolly.

"Aida Hikoichi."

"What do you do?"

Aida looked at him blankly. 'What do you mean?"

It was Sakuragi who jumped in. "He's a hacker."

The air changed a little. Kogure leaned forwards in his seat and gave Aida a second look. "_Really_?"

Sakuragi nodded enthusiastically. "Right?"

Kogure pursed his lips in thought. "We haven't seen a twenty-four in a long time," he mused. "Well, I suppose I could tell you a little bit about our gang, Aida Hikoichi. If you're interested." He lifted one eyebrow expectantly.

Sakuragi elbowed Aida sharply in the ribs and Aida nodded mutely.

Kogure gestured to the rest of the room with an easy sweep of his hand. "We've been together for a long time. Since T-Block days. You've heard of T-Block, I expect?"

Aida shook his head uncertainly. Kogure shrugged, a little regretfully. "Oh well, it was a long time ago I guess."

"Nine years," the man beside him supplied quietly. "Ten since we met Sendoh. Nine since the... you know."

Aida looked up hopefully at the sound of Sendoh's name.

"Well, we specialise in contraband now," Kogure continued on with a wave of his hand. "And sell it to other gangs. They all need stuff – cigarettes, whiskey, porn. Some are pretty desperate. No one else in this prison can do what we do. It gives us a significant amount of... ah... _influence_."

Aida looked at him enquiringly. He wanted to ask about Sendoh Akira, but instead he said, "Isn't that... against the rules?"

Kogure smiled indulgently. "True. But we have certain ways to grease the wheels. I've arranged it so that the wardens look the other way for us."

Aida gaped at him. "But how did you manage that?"

Kogure leaned forward in his seat. "The answer to that question, Aida Hikoichi, is the reason why a short guy like me is the leader of this gang."

Aida flushed red again. Kogure gave him a unreadable smile.

"I give everyone two chances," he continued. "You've already wasted one, so you don't have any more room to fuck up before you're out. Ikegami!" he said the last word loudly, and an inmate with immaculately tidy hair came hurrying across the room to join them. "Ikegami, I'm putting you in charge of this little dipshit. We don't have any twenty-fours, so you just do what you can to get him wherever he needs to go."

Ikegami looked momentarily astonished, but he quickly recovered, straightening his back. "Er – er – yes. Yes, thank you. But – er -" he peered at Kogure curiously. "What about Kyota?"

Kogure waved his hand dismissively. "You already know everything you need to know. I've spoken to Kyota already and he's agreed."

Ikegami's face broke out into a smile. "That's great – I mean –" he beamed and looked towards Aida. "I'll do my best."

Kogure nodded and turned his attention back to Aida. "Ikegami is your teacher, and he'll tell you what you need to know. But understand this: you are dependant on him, like a wiggly little newborn. He can either help you, or get you into deep shit. Ikegami might be a good guy, but I suggest you don't go making an enemy of him, or your life might turn very shitty very quickly." He gave Aida an intense stare before continuing. "In this gang we follow Sendoh's rules, and the rules say that no one – not even your teacher - can force you to have sex or suck cock, but be sensible about it." His eyes narrowed. "Sex is currency here. Some things are worth the price, and some things are not. Remember that."

Aida turned first pale, then bright red.

Kogure kept his eyes on him. "And if I hear you call me short ever again, I'll get Mitsui here to cut off your fucking ears. Any questions?"

Aida stared at him dumbly. Kogure nodded once, and looked back down at his papers in dismissal.

Ikegami reached for Aida's shoulder. "Let's go," he muttered quietly. "I'll introduce everyone to you."

Aida blinked. "No, wait," he blurted. "Wait, I've got a question."

Kogure visibly bristled and looked up again, obviously at the end of his patience.

Aida ploughed on before he could lose his nerve. "Who _is_ Sendoh Akira?"

It might have been his imagination, but Kogure looked a little unsettled. Just a little bit smaller. Then he leaned carefully back in his chair, pressing his fingertips together in thought, and the impression vanished.

After a moment, he sighed.

"Listen, kid. How long have you been in this prison?"

Aida thought for a moment. "About three hours?"

"And what do you know about Sendoh Akira?"

"At bit. He's got something to do with this gang. I thought he was the leader, but Sakuragi said you were. Uhm, I heard that he killed his cell mate with his bare hands and – er – ate him. He did something to Kinimoto's eye..." he hesitated, "...and apparently he choked someone to death with his – you know-" he gestured vaguely. "Plus he howls like a wolf at night time... but I think Sakuragi was joking about that..." he looked a little nervous. "He _was_ joking, right?"

Kogure frowned. "Sendoh Akira was a genius," he said finally. "He started this gang during a really shitty time. We all waded through more than our fair share of mud, but he's the one who got us to the top of this shit hole. Half our reputation is built out of his infamy. The truth is that he wasn't particularly violent, or particularly cruel, but there was something about him... he was the sort of person who, when it mattered, could make anything happen. Sometimes you began to wonder if it was magic."

Aida stared at him sceptically. "You talk about him in the past tense," he noted.

"Yes, he's gone now."

"_Gone_?"

"Keep it to yourself though," Kogure added. "His reputation is still pretty useful to us."

"But what do you mean __gone__?"

"Twelve years," Sakuragi said quietly beside him. Aida glanced over to see him looking at the ceiling, his arms folded. "Twelve years are up."

"His sentence was twelve years," Kogure clarified, frowning vaguely. "They released him this morning."

Aida's mouth dropped open.

An odd silence fell as the men around him seemed to be remembering former times. It was Mitsui who finally said, "Do you think he'll really find Rukawa Kaede?"

Aida was on the verge of asking _Who is Rukawa Kaede_ when he was interrupted by a loud scoff somewhere behind him.

Aida turned to see a strong, dark-skinned man smirking in the most unpleasant way. The skin on his neck looked like it had been burned, and a long scar crossed over one eye. There was a particular wildness about him, as if he wasn't quite in control of himself. "Rukawa Kaede is dead." The man said with a sneer. "The only reason I didn't fucking kill Sendoh nine years ago was because he was even more of a wreck than I was."

Aida felt Sakuragi bristle slightly beside him. "Fuck you Maki," he snarled. "You couldn't so much as touch him."

"Enough," Kogure snapped tiredly, as if it was an argument he'd heard many times before. They looked towards him, and he frowned. "As for Rukawa Kaede" he added, "I wouldn't be so sure."

"What do you mean?" Sakuragi demanded.

Kogure glanced at each of them of them in turn and Aida saw the hint of a slow smile tickling his lips. "Maybe I know something you don't know," he said teasingly.

They all looked keen to ask more, but Kogure only shook his head and put a knowing finger to his lips. Then he looked back down at his papers, and the conversation was over.

* * *

><p>Sendoh stepped out of the main gates and immediately shivered, pulling his coat tighter against the cold. An unkind wind whistled across a grey landscape. The giant steel doors rumbled closed behind him and a single security camera turned to watch him where he stood.<p>

Sendoh was reminded that Fukushima prison was set decidedly in the middle of nowhere.

Fishing in his pocket he checked the contents of his wallet. A few hundred yen coins. It hadn't been much twelve years ago – it was bound to be worth even less now.

On either side of the road, and currently pretending he wasn't there, two guards were on duty. One was sitting on a wooden stool, reading a folded newspaper. The other was staring blankly out into the bleak countryside. There was nothing else.

The road stretched away from Sendoh's feet, along the cusp of a hill, dipping down into a valley where, he had been assured, there was a bus stop. Sendoh hesitated. He turned back to look up at the buildings behind him one last time.

It was certainly colder out here than it had been inside, that was for sure. He thought of the rec room, where Mitsui, Kogure, Maki, and the others were probably scheming together. Now it seemed that the bars that once kept him in were suddenly keeping him out. He hunched his shoulders unhappily. He wasn't sure he really belonged out here.

Turning aside, he approached the guard who was standing and staring blankly.

"Where's..." he began.

"Bus stop's down the hill," came the abrupt rely. "Fifteen minutes walk. Ten, if you hurry."

Sendoh blinked, and tried again.

"No, actually. Can you tell me where the prison cemetery is?"

This time the guard looked at him. His eyes moved up and down, assessing Sendoh closely. Sendoh stared back, conscious of how his shirt and jeans hung loosely from him. He hadn't even realised just how much weight he'd lost.

Finally the guard jerked his head away over to the right.

"Round the side of the building," he said. "You'll see it as soon as you turn the corner."

Sendoh gave a short nod and headed the way the man had pointed.

The road around the building was little better than a track. Not many cars made a trip round here after all. Sendoh kicked the gravel as he walked, hands deep in his pockets. A little sleet began to fall.

As promised, the cemetery, with its rows of identical headstones, quickly came into view. It was bordered by a low, rusting iron fence and must have contained, at a guess, three or four hundred graves.

The sound of the gardener's clippers slicing through pine and wood was the only sound to be heard. Not a single bird was singing on a damp, bleak day like this. Sendoh pushed open the wet rusted gate, causing the iron to creak and screech painfully. The gardener glanced up briefly, but quickly returned to his work as Sendoh shuffled inside and closed the gate behind him.

As his feet dragged through the damp grass he felt the sadness tangible in the air. The particular sense of slowness that lingers around cemeteries everywhere. Soothing to old wounds and peaceful to memories, as if time were somehow softened here. Sendoh drifted through it, breathing the stillness.

The newest graves were closest. Most names that he didn't recognise, but he stopped for a while in front of a stone that read Jin Soichiro and stared at it, rocking slightly on his heels. The date of decease was only some two years previous. Executed, of course.

Sendoh must have stood there for five minutes before he reached out a hand and patted the stone a little awkwardly. "Thanks Jin," he muttered under his breath, and tucked his hand back inside his pocket. "I really owe you."

A heavy moment, then he picked up his feet, and moved on.

He wandered along the rows a little further back, but couldn't find any trace of Fujima Kenji. Nine years ago Maki had somehow dragged him out of the fire, all the way to the dining hall, but Fujima had never woken up. Doubtless he was one of the few who still had family who cared about him. Perhaps his parents had picked up his body to bury in his home town. Sendoh hoped so.

He thought briefly of Maki. He hadn't been quite the same since. Losing Fujima had been a blow, but with Jin gone too it was no wonder he was a little cracked. _Still_, he recalled, _Kogure was always better at handling Maki than I was._ _I'm sure they'll be fine._

He paused at the end of the row in hesitation, wondering whether he should continue. Did he really want to be here? Would it change anything, or mean anything at all? He had to bite his lip and steel himself before carrying on.

As he moved further back, the silence began to ache. The regular clipping of secateurs and distant noise from the prison blocks did nothing but make the silence more noticeable. More intense.

He wandered aimlessly through the rest of the still and silent stones, half-hoping he wouldn't find it. But there they were. Six in a row. Almost indistinguishable from the rest.

With his hands deep in his pockets he stood and stared at them for long while. The silence seemed to concentrate around him, becoming thick and syrupy until he could hear nothing but his own breath and his heart beating.

His eyes dragged across the shallow inscription repeatedly.

_Rukawa __Kaede._

Slowly, he reached out and touched the stone. An old grave. It was cheap cement, like all the rest. The characters of his name were already beginning to wear away. Just another two-bit criminal, mostly forgotten. A thin film of lichen had begun to grow over the corners of the concrete, clinging life on a dead stone.

It seemed solid, almost real. Here, where the line between his life and his death was so perfectly blurred. It was easy to imagine that he was really here, sleeping peacefully under the grass.

Sendoh shook his head regretfully. It was just a mask over an ugly truth. The stone's very existence was merely a symbol of the death so long prolonged, so dark, so lonely, and so painful.

He shuddered and removed his fingers.

_I __know __you're __not __here_, he mouthed to himself, feeling hotness across his cheeks and pain in his chest. _But __Kaede... __you're __not __anywhere._

He clenched his fists and closed his eyes.

_You have to be alive. You have to be. I've nothing but a book and my stubbornness to prove it... but I can't give up. I don't dare to. I don't have anything else._

"You know, they say that grave is empty," a sudden voice cut into his thoughts.

Sendoh lifted his head. In his mind strangely dim, the words seemed to be coming from a distance. He half-thought he'd imagined it. But when he opened his eyes he saw that the gardener had wandered over. Rainwater dripped from his plastic hood and trimming shears shone like wet iron in his hand.

Sendoh stared at him dumbly.

"What?" he croaked, bewildered.

The gardener gestured to the stone with one hand. "They say that grave is empty," he repeated.

Sendoh turned back to the grave confusedly. Something massive flicked inside him. Emotion, thick and violent, rose in his gut like flood water. A part of him wanted to cry. A part of him wanted to laugh – laugh and laugh and never stop laughing. It all seemed so fittingly mad. The world – the graveyard, its rusting fence, the old shed, the rows and rows of monuments to the forgotten dead – everything was meaningless. What was true, and what was false, and all the mirages in between, seemed to blur.

He'd come here hoping... for what? Solace? Peace? Answers? Proof that any of it had even been real? But even here, by his grave, there was nothing. Just dead stone and silence.

He shivered. The world seemed endless. He stood at the door of a new life, but he had nothing. Everything he had achieved was on the other side of that wall. Everything he wanted had long been lost. He had nothing but his own fire to sustain him, and a task so wide and so hopeless that he thought he might go mad with it.

A hand gripped the sleeve of his jacket, disturbing his thoughts, and Sendoh turned back in irritation.

Blue eyes met his.

Overhead, the first rumble of thunder galloped over the low clouds, but neither of them moved.

There was a moment. A short heartbeat as he pushed back the hood of his raincoat.

A second rumble bounced off the prison walls and was accompanied by a swift blast of lighting that made the clouds overhead momentarily sparkle with silver linings. Then the heavens opened, and the rain began to fall.

They didn't notice.

* * *

><p>"Ka- Kaede-?" he breathed in disbelief, his voice dampened by the raindrops.<p>

Rukawa only stared back, taking in the sight of him.

Rain water was running down the sides of his face, darkening his shirt and soaking his hair. But those things were minor considering that everything about Sendoh Akira seemed changed.

Rukawa found himself looking into eyes that were wild and fierce, stung with tears and tempered with strength. So real and sharp, so different from the fading light Sendoh had once been.

Something stirred and crackled in his lungs. Rukawa had to resist the urge to shrink back from the unfamiliar man before him. He thought he had been prepared for this. He'd had years to prepare for it. But now, here, he felt deeply unsettled.

He felt suddenly uncertain. Ashamed of the tiredness beneath his eyes and the scars that stretched up his neck and over his cheek. The crushing realisation that he now seemed so much weaker in comparison.

Why was he here? Why had he assumed that Sendoh Akira would want to see him? The eight months he'd spent working here at the cemetery, waiting for this day, seemed a strangely far-fetched and ridiculous effort.

So many years, only to have all his failings bought into focus by Sendoh Akira's steady stare. He could feel it like a blast of warm air on his cheeks. And he was brought up short by it.

__Who ___are __you? _he wanted to ask.

"Kaede..." Sendoh said again in amazement. He reached out a dripping hand to cautiously touch Rukawa's rain-dampened shoulder as if he were an apparition who might simply dissolve.

Rukawa sucked in his breath. What he wished he could say then. How could his limited language ever be tortured into the contortions of his heart? Anything would have done. A word – half a word – to relieve just a sliver of the pressure mounting in his chest. But words had never been his allies. He floundered helplessly for a moment.

Then Sendoh reached out and in one smooth motion pulled him fast against his chest.

The world spun.

Over Sendoh's broad shoulder, Rukawa could see the gravestones dark and shining in the rain. Rows upon rows of them. Lives and memories reduced to strange uniformity. So different from the strong, warm arms that held him now.

Rukawa Kaede had long skated the waters between life and death, flickering over a blurred line carelessly. He knew he was difficult; frequently unreasonable, occasionally violent, careering dangerously through the blinking flashes of his existence. He had no control, no direction at all. Finding the middle line felt like tight-rope walking, and he failed more often than he succeeded.

Yet now his eyelids fluttered slightly in contentment. Surrender suddenly didn't seem so bad.

"Thank you," he heard Sendoh mutter, gripping him tightly, the words causing a pleasant vibration in his chest. Rukawa didn't know if the words were meant for him, for fate, or for god.

He pressed his cheek against Sendoh's ear, wet hair clinging to skin. _Yes_, he agreed silently. _Thank you_.

They stood together until the continuing rain brought both of them to the point of shivering. Then, reluctantly, they parted.

Another loud rumble sounded overhead, closer this time and the world was filled with the noise of the raindrops striking the stones, the ground, the leaves. Rukawa lifted his eyes, and motioned that they should go.

They picked their way together across the grass in silence, both sopping wet with rain, clutching hands as if they didn't dare to let go, back towards the iron-wrought gate and the service road. The whole way, Sendoh couldn't bring himself to look away from the man beside him.

Reaching the roadside, Sendoh stepped forward, expecting them to walk back down the hill, but Rukawa stayed him with a hand on his arm. The sound of an approaching car became audible over the rain and Sendoh watched a sleek white Mercedes with blackened windows draw up beside them, windscreen wipers flashing back and forth. The tyres made a satisfying crunch against the wet ground as it came smoothly round to stop.

Sendoh stared at it in surprise.

A man in a casual suit stepped out of the driver's seat and hurried round to them, unfurling an umbrella. His manner and deference suggested that he was some kind of chauffeur, and yet there was something about him that whispered in warning. Sendoh couldn't help but stiffen slightly. He'd been inside long enough to recognise a criminal when he saw one.

__Yakuza___? _he guessed. He remembered that Rukawa had had some yakuza connections.

The man held the umbrella over the two of them and looked towards Rukawa with a brief bow. "Liron-sama?"

Sendoh felt an unpleasant little twist in his gut. The name sounded ugly to his ears, but he was wise enough to give nothing away except for the smallest flicker of his eyes.

_Liron-sama?_

"We're done here," Rukawa informed the chauffeur. "Take us back to the condo. And get some towels."

The chauffeur nodded his understanding.

Towels were quickly procured from the car boot and used to cover the back seats where they were to sit.

Sendoh moved a little foggily, fascinated by Rukawa's smallest movements, even as reluctant comprehension dawned on him. He sat distractedly on his towel and subconsciously ran his fingers over the trim. The interior of the car was all black leather and luxury. He'd stolen some beautiful cars in his time, but he'd never been chauffeured in the back of one before.

Rukawa climbed in beside him.

__T___hey __think __he's __Liron __Kai_. _Which __means_ _t__hey're __not __yakuza... this __is __the __fucking __Tokyo __Sect._

_But __how- __why-?_

He met Rukawa's eye and, conscious of the chauffeur sitting in the driver's seat, bit back his questions.

The car pulled smoothly away and Sendoh's eyes slid to the small heads of stone behind the cemetery gates.

He was stuck by how, from this distance, they all looked the same.

The journey felt strangely surreal.

They drove first through empty countryside and farmland which soon gave way to towns and suburbs until eventually they were surrounded by the office towers and huge department complexes of Tokyo itself. Sendoh gazed out of the window blankly. He was increasingly immersed in the powerful feeling of his displacement. The car, the city, the whole world was too big. Even his reunion with Kaede didn't suppress the strangeness of sitting here, being driven by a man he didn't know, to a location he couldn't imagine. All the things that had defined him – his gang, his achievements, his experience – were far away and utterly valueless now. He felt oddly wrong-footed, a stranger to himself. Every mile they drove caused the feeling to rise higher in his chest.

_I left a part of myself back there with them. What if it was the biggest part? What if I can never regain it? What if I... disappoint Kaede somehow?_

A sudden brush of skin and he looked down in surprise to see Rukawa's hand over his own. Though he looked up in question, Rukawa had his face turned away, gazing out through the window as if he hadn't even noticed the contact.

Sendoh slowly let out his breath.

They drove on in silence.

Half an hour later, the chauffeur dropped them off in front of a tall apartment building and drove away. It wasn't raining in the city, but they were both of them still damp and uncomfortable in their clothes.

Sendoh looked up at the building blankly. He had a dozen questions, none of which seemed capable of working their way past his lips. He _wanted_ to ask. His curiosity was fierce in his chest. But he forced himself to wait as they approached the entrance, swallowing his impatience and simply breathing freedom.

It had been twelve years since he'd seen a world without walls, after all.

The building was new and stylish. Nothing overly fancy, but hardly the domain of the downtrodden. There was a doorman who opened the glass doors as they approached, and bowed to them both as they entered.

A lift whisked them up to the fortieth floor, piping orchestra music to fill the silence. Then when Rukawa pushed open the apartment door, Sendoh's jaw finally dropped.

The room itself was not particularly noteworthy but it was the French windows that stretched wall to wall which caught Sendoh's attention. On the balcony beyond, a single chair faced outwards over a view of the city so beautiful it took Sendoh's breath away. Almost in a trace, he stepped across the room towards it, forgetting even to remove his shoes in his astonishment. He pressed his fingers and his forehead against the window, his breath fogging up the glass.

The sun picked out the roofs of smaller buildings, cars and buses far below. The buildings seemed to go on forever, there was no end to them, stretching to the horizon and beyond. Tokyo. Perhaps the greatest city in the world.

For twelve years Sendoh had lived in a minute world, carefully controlled. It had been vicious at times, dangerous constantly, but he had been forced only to see what was immediately before him. A rough desperation. The task of simple survival had eaten up his time and existence. There hadn't been opportunities to see the vastness of everything around him. Out here... there were larger things of which to be afraid.

The height, and the view, were at once terrifying and beautiful beyond belief.

"Damn, Kaede," Sendoh breathed, struggling to think of anything to say at all. "Damn."

Rukawa came quietly alongside him. "Take a shower," he advised practically. "And change out of your clothes. You'll get a chill."

Sendoh dragged his eyes away from the scenery to focus on the no less astonishing face so close by. His heart hiccuped in his chest.

"Okay," he agreed.

* * *

><p>Soon he was sitting warm and refreshed in Rukawa's clothes which had proved to be a surprisingly good fit. Rukawa was opposite him at the low table, arranging two cups and a steaming pot of tea.<p>

Looking about the room, Sendoh appreciated its simplicity. A three-seat sofa faced a TV mounted on the wall. A tidy bookshelf filled the other wall. There were no pictures or mementoes. No ornaments or stray scraps of paper could been seen anywhere. And absolutely nothing had been placed near the window. Not a single object to block even the smallest portion of the view.

But despite the bareness it felt... comfortable. Sendoh took a moment to breathe deeply. The room was full of calm and quietness. The prison could not have seemed further away. Doubtless, that had been Rukawa's aim.

Sendoh watched Rukawa's delicate hands pour tea into his cup. Every finger, Sendoh realised, was bent. Broken and healed. The back of his right hand was badly scarred. _So long ago_, he was reminded. _And still, somehow, so close._

Rukawa didn't notice his stare, moving carefully so as not to spill a single drop of the honey brown liquid.

Feeling filled with a comfortable peace, Sendoh blew steam from the surface of his cup and touched the hot tea to his lips. It was delicately flavoured, warm and pleasant. Across the table, he saw Rukawa do the same, and for the moment when Rukawa closed his eyes to savour the tea, Sendoh found himself hopelessly entranced.

__He's ___such __a __beautiful __man_, Sendoh realised idly. __I've ___never __seen __him __like __this. __I __never __even __noticed __it __before. __Whenever __I've __imagined __him... __I've __only __seen __his __strength. __I __never __really __saw __his __beauty._

When Rukawa set down his tea, their eyes met, and the air simmered with warm inevitability.

Sendoh swallowed. "Is it... safe to talk here?" he hazarded.

Rukawa nodded.

Sendoh wasn't sure where to begin.

"How..?" he started tentatively, hesitating, then gesturing with one hand as if doing so would ask the question for him.

Rukawa frowned a little and pushed his fringe out of his eyes.

"I don't remember everything," he said. His voice was low and soft, with that same under-used quality that made it so precious to Sendoh's ears. Sendoh couldn't resist but to lean forward, keen to capture every minute syllable he uttered. "The roof came down. I woke up in hospital."

Sendoh waited, but Rukawa didn't say more.

"But... the fire? Norio?" he prompted.

Rukawa gave a minute shrug. "Norio's dead. They mentioned it on the news. Firemen found me, apparently. They said the dust from the roof must have smothered most of the flames."

Sendoh leaned back and let out his breath. "So... it was luck."

Rukawa averted his gaze and said nothing. Sendoh's implication hung in the air between them.

_So there was no plan. No final trick._ _You really intended to die. _Somehow it left him feeling a little disappointed.

"But how did you get out of the hospital?" he wanted to know. "There were guards everywhere."

"A nurse let me use her phone," Rukawa replied, taking another sip of tea. "So I called the Tokyo Sect."

"...and now you work for them?"

Rukawa gave a gentle shake of his head. "I run it," he clarified.

Sendoh frowned. _Well, that explains the chauffeur and the apartment_.

"Because they think you're Liron Kai?" he queried aloud.

Rukawa gave him a quick glance over the rim of his cup. "Because I know the codes," he stated simply.

Sendoh stared back at him. _The codes. The damn codes. _Memories rose in his mind one after the next. _The codes that Tsuki had wanted, that Mitsui hadn't believed in, and that Sendoh had hoped would bring Stanley to their aid. The codes that Norio had used as pretext and that Rukawa had never told them in spite of everything they did._

_How ironic that they should have saved him in the end._

Still, the mere memory made him furious. He had to force himself to uncurl his fists. _They're dead_, he reminded himself. _They're all dead. There's no more revenge to be had._

Rukawa saw his look and gave a wave of his hand as if to dismiss his concerns. "It's past," he said. "I used Liron's name just to be cautious. I didn't know how much Stanley might have told his followers."

"But-" Sendoh couldn't help protesting, "-how can you bear hearing his name every day?"

Rukawa lifted one eyebrow. "He used me," he explained simply. "Now, I am using him."

Sendoh opened his mouth to protest but something in Rukawa's expression caused warmth to rise inside him. After a moment, an amused smile slowly crept over his face and he allowed himself to relax.

_Stanley really underestimated you,_ he thought. _He used you in the most awful way, but you didn't become furious or sentimental. You took your revenge in perfect simplicity. You've taken the sect he built, and even the name of his one love, and now you sit casually upon that throne as if it was yours all along._

"You..." he began, but then he just smiled and shook his head. Words failed him.

Rukawa didn't smile, but Sendoh thought he saw something of a flicker at the corner of his lips. They both drank from their cups quietly, and when their eyes met again, the air around them simmered.

The tea, it seemed, was destined to remain unfinished.

* * *

><p>It was a simpler world. The fierce tangle of the past reduced to a distant vagueness. A mostly forgotten ache. Sendoh had thought there might be something complicated, something awkward or difficult, but it wasn't so.<p>

There was cotton, light and comfortable against his skin, air to breathe, and the last orange rays of the fading sun lighting up the world as if to say __look __and __it's ___for __you__._

Then there was Kaede.

He didn't hesitate. He moved calmly. His gentleness was enough to make Sendoh's heart ache. Soft lips against his cheek and jaw, long fingers delicately opened each button, from his throat down to his navel. Sendoh breathed in and out, feeling the taste of him rush through his senses.

__Gentleness__, he realised, __is ___truly __the __privilege __of __the __strong_.

He could feel Kaede's eyes roaming over him as the shirt slipped from his shoulders and pooled around his wrists. He wondered what he saw. How long they had been waiting. And yet for the first time, Sendoh realised that he felt confident. He didn't feel as if he were missing something. The last few years had put him back together, crawling upwards from his lowest point, remembering himself, regaining himself. He felt stronger than he had ever been. The __numbers __no longer unnerved him. He'd long outstripped that old legend in notoriety. For the first time he felt as if he might be a real match for Rukawa Kaede.

And when Kaede met his eyes, something glittered there, and Sendoh guessed he saw it too.

It was no longer a case of potential. This was in full bloom.

Sendoh smiled and lifted a hand to touch Kaede's cheek.

Their lips met.

It wasn't star-bursts or syrup, but a realness that touched his soul. Something wholly satisfying. Beauty that penetrated their every facet, yet couldn't be understood by the eye. Sendoh felt his whole being thrum with the quiet perfection of their togetherness.

They moved fluidly and easily. Kaede's gentle fingers were soft as they teased him, tugging off his socks, lacing into his hair, or twisting luxuriously around him, causing Sendoh to hiss and close his eyes. There was no shyness in his manner. He knew what he wanted, and he knew it was now. Sendoh found it both electric and soothing. He responded in kind, his movements gentle as he tugged Kaede's shirt away, fiddled inelegantly with the button on his jeans, all the while leaving his adoration in a pattern of kisses across his lips.

Scars don't heal, but they fade. And so it was. Those long ago wounds, like patterns and ripples across a still pond, were only faint echoes now. The noise of it seemed to have assimilated into the very fibre of his soul until the stillness returned. Pain may have made Rukawa Kaede who he was, but it didn't define him now. There was very little about him, Sendoh found, that sang of hurt or loneliness.

Norio's marks had mostly vanished, but the remnants of the fire were far more prominent. A huge swath of scarred skin shimmered under Sendoh's hands, residue from the flames that had crawled over him. His entire right side, from his hip to his neck, jaw, and the lower portion of his right ear, was smooth and filmy. Patchy skin curled in wisps upwards over his right cheek.

The scaring continued across his back. There, just above his hip bone, the damaged skin was stretched thin, dark and discoloured. It looked like a strangely-shaped bruise, blue and black in hue. It took Sendoh more than a second to realise that it was the remains of the number twenty-three.

The tattoo that had once held such significance had been reduced to a strange blotching of ink. Sendoh ran his hand gently over it, but didn't comment on it. He was surprised by his own ambivalence. It really didn't seem so important after all.

Kaede gave him an impatient glance, and they continued.

Soon Kaede swum a little lower, kissing him at the peak of his pleasure, running over him in warm swirls and the curling embrace of his tongue. It was more than Sendoh had expected, and set his thighs trembling helplessly, his stomach just a jumble of pleasure-wafted butterflies.

Then, lower still, Kaede's fingers were brushing gently at his gateway, and Sendoh's pleasure splintered abruptly like a knife through a mirror.

He winced, tried his best to control his reaction, but felt everything fall away from him as black tides suddenly rose like walls in his mind. He sat up, his arousal completely gone, his expression betraying his mortification.

Embarrassed, ashamed, he forced himself to look towards Kaede, feeling as if he needed to explain. But when he met Kaede's eye, he saw there was no need.

Both of them were facing the same dark bridge. They had met in the very depths of that agony, after all.

__He ___knows. __Of __course __he __knows. __P__erhaps __no __one __knows __this __fear, __this __hurt, __better __than __he __does._

Kaede gave no reaction. No disappointment, surprise or impatience. He settled back, next to Sendoh, their arms pressing together, where they lay side by side on top of the sheets, hands and fingers casually tracing the shape of one another. Sendoh's racing heart gradually slowed, the tickling of his pleasure returned. Kaede's cheek was pressed against his bare shoulder, his eyes closed, his breathing gentle as if in sleep. Sendoh could not suppress his sigh.

He would have given himself willingly. There was little else that he wanted except to please him, to give him those moments of full-bodied flight. There was not a shred of pride in him that he would not have laid at Rukawa Kaede's feet. But even though it had been years since he'd experienced it, the agony of intrusion and the ugly tearing of his soul were bright and sharp in his memories. He tried to force it all away, shut the lid on that particular box, but it was impossible. It had formed itself into a primeval terror over which he had no control whatsoever. He could feel it at the core of himself like a coiled snake waiting to be stirred up again.

He could easily have tied himself in knots about it but Kaede soon distracted him, shifting his weight and renewing the games of his trailing hands. Then he sat up and his eyes seemed to look down into Sendoh's soul.

Something flickered there.

"Close your eyes."

Sendoh hesitated but did as he was told, though was unable to suppress the slight tick that appeared in his brow. He wanted to give himself up to the moment, but it was not an easy thing. Kaede's warm mouth moved languidly over him again, driving him steady back towards glittering euphoria. The moans worked their way up Sendoh's throat where he managed to swallow only half back down again. The run of hands over his thighs was pleasantly ticklish, but still unable to fully eradicate his mind's focus on his most hidden and shameful spot.

When Kaede drew away once again, Sendoh felt the anxiety stir in his gut, winding him tight as a spring. He could feel Kaede moving, shifting his weight, keeping one hand moving at a leisurely pace along Sendoh's length. Sendoh shivered and squeezed his eyes tighter, nervous of the intrusive contact to come, and dreading his own reaction to it.

When the sensation finally hit him, however, it was not what he had expected at all. His eyes were open in a moment.

Kaede's face was turned upwards, sightless and frozen in a gasp. If it hurt, he didn't show it, his body taut and chest rhythmic as he sunk into Sendoh's desires.

Sendoh reached out and caught his hips in his warm hands, eyes wide.

"No, wait," he gasped. It was hard to concentrate with heat like thunder pulsing around him.

Kaede's decadent glance sent Sendoh's remaining logic spiralling to the back of his mind. He had to fight himself to focus.

_I ___can't___..__._his consciousness shouted at him. _It's __not... __those __things... __Kaede __has... __no __one __should __do __this __to __him..._

Despite the panicked memories of Kaede's agonies, he could do nothing before, with a final shift, Kaede's weight was flush against his hips.

Sendoh tossed his head slightly and groaned. Soft lips on his mouth pulled him firmly back to himself. He couldn't resist it. It was godly.

_Damn_, he told himself. _Damn, damn, damn._

Then, before he knew it, they were moving together.

From then on, the moments were no longer linear. The way Rukawa's body rose and fell above him or the way Sendoh pushed him down into the sheets, catching his lips, his neck, his everything in his fingers, his kisses, his hunger. He felt thin ankles in his hands, then shoulders, thighs, strands of hair. Logic told him it couldn't all have happened at the same time, and yet if there was order, and progress, and rightful chronology, it slipped beyond meaning.

It was a powerful dance, with the last light fading red and orange around them. Neither leading, neither being led. No anger, no ferocity. Nothing that either of them had ever experienced before. There was no conscious thought involved. The dynamic, and the moments, slipped back and forth between them as naturally as the quiet waving of tree branches in a breeze.

They seemed to be reaching through one another, past physical limitations, and meeting on some other plane.

Only at its least was it a dance of bodies. Look closer, and you'd see a melding of souls. So simple, and so right, that all the great yawnings of the black past failed in its presence. So beautiful, that when it was over, Sendoh found his cheeks wet with tears.

_I know what it means_, he realised later, staring up at the ceiling. _As if I'm standing on the edge of a chasm, looking back down and seeing how I climbed it. All the mistakes I made are clear to me. I know where I stumbled. All those years – I understand them perfectly. How every step was just one step closer to this. How I am meant to be no where else but here._

_And the palace I built was nothing less than the place where he lives in my soul._

Rukawa shifted on sheets beside him. "What do you want to do?" he asked in a contented, sleepy voice. Somehow Sendoh knew he wasn't just referring to today. He had the rest of his life to plan for.

A world without boundaries. It was difficult to get his head around. The door would open to his touch. He could possess things – money, clothes, a set of keys. The people he passed in the street would tilt their heads in greeting, or look away, without ulterior motives. It would take months to shake the feeling of constantly being sized up. Years to stop subconsciously doing the same to others. But it was a process – albeit a slow one – and he was resigned to that.

But there were limitations still. With a criminal record and twelve years behind bars, plus a complete lack of formal education, most companies would consider him unemployable. Not to mention his own peculiar idiosyncrasies that made normal working life a near impossibility.

He couldn't tolerate people standing behind him, for one thing. He felt hopelessly uneasy when confronted with simple, social tasks such as choosing seats in the cafeteria, or engaging in conversation with unfamiliar people. Even the most innocuous use of the word _bitch_ was likely to result in a fight.

He hesitated. What _did_ he want to do?

"If you want the sect, I'll give it to you," Rukawa said, quite unexpectedly. "If you don't..." he added, "I'll disband it."

Sendoh turned his face to look at him in surprise. "What? Why? Isn't it your livelihood?"

Rukawa frowned slightly. "I kept it mainly for your twenty-five."

Sendoh stared at him blankly, uncomprehending, and Rukawa raised one brow.

"Who do you think was supplying Kogure?" he asked.

Sendoh sat bolt upright. "You're... one of Kogure's contacts?"

Rukawa's silence sufficed as answer enough.

Sendoh shook his head in disbelief. "But... but why didn't Kogure tell me?"

"He didn't know, though he might have guessed. So might you."

_The book_, Sendoh recalled numbly. _Of course, he sent the book._

He looked down at Rukawa who soon looked a little uncomfortable under his stare. Sendoh sighed and rejoined him on top of the sheets, pulling him fast against his chest and squeezing his eyes shut. It felt remarkably easy.

"You know the first thing I'm going to do tomorrow?" he began drowsily. Rukawa did not reply, his warm swallow breath ticklish against Sendoh's skin. "I'm going to walk to the corner store," Sendoh continued to himself, "and buy Kogure an entire goddamn box of Benson Hedges."

Rukawa only shifted slightly, settling against him more comfortably. Sendoh reached out to rub the strands of his hair between his fingers as if just checking his realness one last time. His contentedness felt like a huge, expanding wave in his chest. He smiled idly to himself.

Only a few minutes later, they were both asleep.

* * *

><p><em>Miles away, in the cemetery's silence<em>

_the sounds of life came from the far side of the wall._

_But no words. No need for words._

_Only trimming shears abandoned _

_in the wet grass _

_to rust._

THE END.

* * *

><p>ANs<p>

It's finished! Hooray! I'm so glad! I have SO many other projects I've been putting on hold because "OMG I have to finish Thine Own before I work on this other stuff or I'll NEVER actually get it done."

Final chapters are always the hardest :( I usually only physically print out one final version of each chapter for a very final edit, but I've printed about seven different versions of this (meaning I thought I was finished about seven different times only to decide to change a huge quantity of stuff!) For perspective, I printed the final chapter/epilogue for R+J only twice each :(

Epic headache!

Haruko's little segment was uploaded separately just because the difference in the time line needed some preservation.

I'm working without a Beta Reader here so I'm doubly paranoid about everything (it makes life a lot easier when there's someone to say "you've totally fucked up this bit" instead of me constantly going "Maybe I've fucked up all of it? Maybe none of it makes no sense? Maybe I need to start everything from scratch... AGAIN!"

I would love to have a beta reader ~ but it has to be someone violent, highly critical, and obsessed with absolute perfection! Basically, I need someone who is as critical of my fics as I am (which is hard, because I'm never satisfied with anything). If you think that may be you, please do let me know!

Here's a little run-down of all the songs that made this fic possible (check out my youtube channel to listen to them all in one convenient playlist!)

Come in Closer by Blue October (Fic theme!)

Laura Palmer by Bastille (if this fic was a movie, this would play in the credits :P)

23 by Jimmy Eat World (Kaede's Song)

What I've Done by Linkin' Park (song for Kaede's past)

Who Am I Living For by Katy Perry (Akira's theme)

Not Afraid by Eminem (Akira's alternate theme)

No More, Break, Get Out Alive, Life Starts Now and Riot, all by Three Days Grace

This is War by 30 Seconds to Mars

Everytime by Britney Spears (Kaede's 'death')

Yesterday by Leona Lewis

I'm Alive by Leona Lewis

Save Me by Nickelback

Far Away by Nickelback (Epilogue!)


End file.
